POEMS. 


BY 

AMANDA  T.  JONES. 


Printcb   at  tlje   Uinersibc 

AND  FOB  SALE  BY 

HURD  AND  HOUGHTON,  NEW  YORK 

1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

AMANDA  T.  JONES, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Northern  District  of 
New  York. 


PS 


TO  THE 

MEMBERS   OF  THE  "NAMELESS  CLUB," 

I  WOULD   GRATEFULLY   PRESENT   THE    RESULTS  OF    THAT  LABOR 
WHICH  THEY   HAVE   SO   KINDLY   ENCOURAGED   AND   AP- 
PROVED,  PRAYING  THEM  TO  ACCEPT  THEREWITH 
EARNEST  ASSURANCES  OF  MY   SISTERLY 
REGARD. 

A.    T.    J. 


762967 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

ATLANTIS         . 11 

THE  PROPHECY  OF  THE  DEAD  ......  64 

THE  SOLDIER'S  MOTHER 67 

FORT  DONELSON 70 

THE  BATTLE  OF  GAINES'  HILL 73 

RICHMOND 78 

THE  SOLDIER'S  BRIDE 81 

THE  NIGHT-BATTLE  UNDER  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN   .        .  87 

THE  YEAR  OF  EMANCIPATION 96 

APKIL  DATS 100 

SHINE,  SUN  OF  THE  SUMMER 102 

IN  "FOREST  LAWN" 105 

THE  YEAR  OF  VICTORIES 107 

A  HEBEL  FLAG  OF  TRUCE Ill 

FORT  SUMTER 115 

THE  SOUTH  WIND 118 

THRENODY 120 

A  BALLAD  OF  THE  SOUTH  AND  NORTH  ....  124 

THE  REALM  OF  THE  WEST 127 

THE  YEAR  OF  PEACE 129 

THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  LIBERTY 133 

THE  VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST  ....  139 

DAY  AND  NIGHT    ....                ....  146 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

MORTA 148 

Do  WE  LOVE  AS  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO?     ....  152 

SHIPWRECKED 155 

HERTHA 158 

THE  BALLAD  OF  ETHEL  LEE 163 

THE  EVENING  STAR 166 

MY  GLADE  IN  THE  WEST 169 

DEATH  IN  THE  FOREST 173 

FLOATING  ON  THE  LAKE 175 

LEONORA 177 

WHITE  VIOLETS 180 

FALLEN  FRUITS 183 

FLOWERS  OF  AUTUMN 185 

ANNIVERSARY  POEM 187 


PATRIOTIC  POEMS. 


ATLANTIS. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

NEPTUNE,  having  made  war  with  Athena  for  the  possession  of 
Acta,  and  being  about  to  prevail,  the  noise  of  their  conflict  reached 
the  ears  of  Zeus,  monarch  of  the  gods,  who,  descending,  commanded 
that  Neptune  should  inherit  all  lands,  save  only  Acta ;  upon  whose 
plains  still  should  flourish  the  olive,  symbol  of  the  power  of  Athena, 
and  whose  people  should  worship  only  her  forever. 

The  ocean-god,  fain  to  submit  to  the  unalterable  fiat,  sped  thence 
across  the  Ionian  and  Tyrrhenian  waters,  passing  beyond  the  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  and  delaying  not  until  the  wheels  of  his  chariot  had 
swept  the  shores  of  that  mid-sea  island,  Atlantis. 

There  abiding,  with  Amphitrite,  his  wife,  all  good  fortune  befell 
the  island  and  the  people  thereof. 

Nevertheless,  having  afterward  permitted  that  his  sons  should 
rule  in  his  stead,  —  receiving  all  kingly  observances  as  became  their 
divine  birth,  —  they  grew  over-proud,  murmuring  among  themselves 
against  that  decree  of  Heaven,  and  desiring  tribute  and  adoration 
from  the  Athenians. 

Their  ever-loyal  subjects,  hearing  their  murmurings,  and  being 
concerned  for  the  honor  of  their  god,  gathered  themselves  together 
with  all  the  armaments  of  war,  and  voyaged  toward  Acta,  design- 
ing to  compel  her  people  to  forsake  their  queen,  Athena,  and  wor- 
ship only  Neptune,  —  counted  greatest  among  terrestrial  powers. 

But  the  children  of  Acta,  having  been  warned  to  prepare  for  war 
by  many  signs  and  wonders  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  met  them  in 
great  force  when  they  had  landed,  and  waged  warfare  with  them 
mightily  for  the  space  of  half  a  day.  Being  driven  back,  however, 
to  the  foot  of  their  mountains,  they  must  have  utterly  peris*hed,  had 
not  Athena  hastened  to  their  rescue.  Her  following,  they  turned 
upon  those  Islanders,  overcame  and  wholly  slew  them,  so  that  all 


10  THE  ARGUMENT. 

the  valleys  were  laden  with  dead.  These,  being  upgathered,  were 
cast  upon  the  decks  of  their  vessels,  and,  drifted  by  a  miraculous 
tide,  came  at  sunset  to  their  own  country,  where  was  then  great 
wonder  and  grief  for  what  had  befallen  them. 

Zeus,  perceiving  that  the  people  of  Atlantis  had  dealt  guiltily  by 
the  Athenians,  striving  to  make  slaves  of  those  himself  had  pro- 
nounced free,  caused  that  an  earthquake  should  retid  their  island, 
and  utterly  overwhelm  it  in  the  sea. 


ATLANTIS. 


PRELUDE. 

I. 

earth's  lost    youth   thou    hast    re- 
vived in  dreams, 
Hast  set  swift  sails  and  moored  in 

ports  of  yore, 

Up  shining  channels  traced  forgotten  streams 
Enriched  with  lilies  white  from  rim  to  core ; 
Thou  needs  must  know  that   strange   bar- 
baric shore, 

(Nathless    unhistoried    now    and     long    sub- 
merged,) 
Where    Neptune's    sons    imperial   sceptres 

bore  ; 

Against    whose    sparkling    borders,    blossom- 
verged, 

Their  fleet,  wave-climbing  steeds,  the  gods  of 
ocean  urged. 


12  ATLANTIS. 


II. 

Unkinged,  Atlantis,  are  thy  hapless  guests ; 
They  mourn,  they  wail  for   thee    through 

ice- wrought  caves ; 

By  torrid  isles  they  lift  sea-burdened  breasts, 
They  fail  with  grief,  they  sink  in  sobbing 

waves. 
Ah,  their  rich  temples   loud  with   singing 

slaves  — 

Their  tribute-yielding  people  prone  to  kneel ! 
Ah,  their  broad  realm !    the  pathless  deep 

it  paves ; 
O'er    its    bold    mountains    reef-torn    vessels 

reel : 

No  minstrels  chant  its  woe  and  none  recite  its 
weal. 

in. 

Lo !  yet  our  marvel-loving  souls  have  caught 

That  old  belief  profanely  scoffed  as  vain,  — 

"  Beyond    the     heights    of    Hercules,    't  is 

thought, 
Of  yore   an   island   gorged   the   whelming 

main  : 
In  sooth  strange  dyes  the  stagnant  waters 

staiii, 
And  all  seafarers  of  the  West  aver, 


ATLANTIS.  13 

There    weedy    shoals    their    urgent    barks 

detain, 

And  rushes  o'er  the  ruffled  surface  stir    — 
That  seem  of  fearful  matters  always  to  confer." 

IV. 

So  they  —  the  careful  scribes  of  ancient  lore  : 
Thereat   no   visionist   waves   the   doubting 

head; 
For  while  rare  dreams  their  precious  chrisms 

outpour, 

Our  souls  perceive  the  light  of  cycles  fled,  — 

Breathe  alien  airs  and  traffic  with  the  dead ; 

Drink  of  deep   founts   that   erst  in   coolness 

welled ; 
Aye !    with    thine    awful    rulers,    reverent 

tread 

Across  thy  very  meads,  thou  isle  of  Eld ! 
Thy  name  we  have  not  scorned,  nor  faith  there- 
in  withheld. 


CANTO  I. 

i. 
fHEN  first  Athena's  wind-borne  arrows 

sang 
Through  Acta's  clouds  and  clown  its 

ranges  grand, 

At  once  to  life  her  symbol  olive  sprang, 
And  Terra  hailed  her  goddess  of  the  land : 
But    mighty    Neptune    rushed    upon    the 

strand, 
(Far-off  the   firm   hills,    trembling,   felt    the 

shock  ! ) 

His  whirling  trident  left  the  sinewy  hand, 
It  struck  and  tarried,  vibrant  in  the  rock, 
And  crested  billows  there   did  rise   and  round 
it  flock. 

ii. 
"  Behold  ! "  he  cried,  "  mine  are  the  rugged 

vales ; 

The  fearful  cliffs  my  dread  approach  attend ; 
Up  the  green  slopes  my  foam-white  sea-bird 


A  TLANTIS.  15 

And   briny   founts   these   roofs    of  granite 

rend  !  " 
Straight  did  her  bow   the    maiden-goddess 

bend,  — 
"  Mine  are  the  plains,"    she  echoed,   "  mine 

the  shores ! 

For  me  their  songs  the  light  cicadas  blend ; 
I  call  —  from    sun-dried   chasms   the   torrent 

pours, 

While  fruitful  groves  make  haste  to  drop  their 
bloomy  stores." 

in. 
Far  flew  the  shaft  through   Acta's  morning 

air  — 
The  bucklered  breast  of  Neptune  felt   the 

stroke : 

Then  burst  such  war  as  only  gods  may  dare ! 
Then    giants    rose,  then    sluggish     Triton 

woke; 

His  wonted  bound  the  reeking  ocean  broke, 
And,  mad   with   tides,  went   plunging   down 

the  dales; 

Wide  rolled  o'er  all  the  crater's  jetty  smoke, 
The  hissing  lava  chased  the  valeward  gales, 
And  through  the   seething   floods   did   wreathe 
its  ruddy  scales. 


16  ATLANTIS. 


IV. 
Strong  were   the    wrathful   gods  —  the   strife 

was  dire  : 

From  glittering  shield  and  helm  and  bald- 
rick  brave, 
Their   clashing    javelins    strewed    the    winds 

with  fire  ; 
In    onset    swift    they   trode    the    frothing 

wave  — 

Till  highest  heaven  an  echoing  clamor  gave, 
And  Zeus,  monarch  of  the  gods,  arose : 
Down  darkened  steeps  his  dreadful  bolts  he 

drave  — 

They  shook  the  brooding  mists  with  sunder- 
ing throes, 

And,  crashing,  smote   apart   the   fierce,  unvan- 
quished  foes. 

v. 
From  pale  recoil  immortal  brows  they  reared, 

In  all  the  pride  of  majesty  divine : 
Howbeit  their  Titan  minions  fled  afeared  — 
Deep  caves  received  them  and  the  bound- 
less brine, 
Whose   tides,   receding,   sought   their  past 

confine ; 
Volcano-springs  their  fiery  rivers  stayed ; 


ATLANTIS.  17 

The  whirlwind  died  along  its  scathful  line ; 
The    tempest-herded   clouds    did   shrink   and 

fade, 

And  rolling  seas  of  light  pursued  the  fleeting 
shade. 

VI. 

Lo,  the  sheen  azure  of  the  crystal  vault 
Rose,  arch  on   arch,  beyond  the  ravished 

sight ! 

Effulgent  hues  noon's  glory  did  exalt 
Of  sapphire,  ruby,  and  fair  chrysolite, 
Opal  and  pearl,  and  chalcedony  white, 
And  pure,  pellucid  beryl ;  soft  did  blaze 
Their  sevenfold  splendors :  while  from  in- 
finite height, 

As  one  whose  voice  the  skyey  realm  obeys, 
Descended  all  serene  the  god  of  countless  days. 


Supernal  radiance  sphered  his  sovran  head : 
The    lustrous    sun    before   him   paled  and 

pined ; 

In  golden  rest  the  seas  unbillowed  spread, 
And  whelming  light  entranced  the  songless 

wind. 

Worldward   the   Sire   his   awful    eyes    de- 
clined, 
2 


18  ATLANTIS. 

Where   knelt   the    strivers,  pale   as  snow-feel 

flowers : 
"  No  more,"  he  said,  "  the    blasts  of  War 

unbind ! 

Still  for  Athena  flourish  Acta's  bowers ; 
All   else    be    thine,    thou    lord   of    sea-abiding 
powers ! " 


He  spake,  and  up  receiving  heavens  he  passed  ; 
Beneath  his  feet   there    rolled    a   luminous 

brede 

Of  stars,  whose  vivid  nebulae,  white  and  vast, 
The  swift-pursuing  vision  did  impede. 
Slowly  the   fading    day,   from    shore    and 

mead, 
Soared  zenithward,  and,  glimmering,  died  on 

high  : 

As  saintly  souls,  so  did  From  earth  recede 
Its  tremulous  flames,  and  night  began  to  sigh 
Along  the  desert  wave  and  through  the  sunless 
sky. 

IX. 

Uprose  the  whilom  warriors :  free  of  use, 
Helmet  and  shield  and  javelin    cast   aside, 

Gleamed  on  the  dusky  strand  in  silent  truce : 
Nor   might   the   darkness  which   did  there 
reside 


ATLANTIS.  19 

Those  glowing  shapes  of  beauteous  godship 

hide : 

But  brow  and  breast  and  limb  of  ivory  shone 
Fair  as  the  milk-white  moons  that  rise  and 

glide 

O'er  distant  Herschel's  night-involvM  zone, 
And  bid  admiring   spheres   their  veiling  shades 
disown. 

x. 

Now  grows  the  dim  world  voluble :  the  dells 

With  choral  ranks  of  forest-dwellers  gleam ; 

And  fountain-nymphs,  who  peal   their   silver 

bells, 
That   make   the    sleeping    hills   of  echoes 

dream. 

Sweetly  the   hours   from   silence   they   re- 
deem— 

They  cry  "  Athena  comes !     Behold,  behold 
The  silver  stars   that   o'er   her   break  and 

beam! 

Green  olives  high    their   singing   boughs  up- 
hold; 

They  hail  her  Acta's  queen  with  voices  mani- 
fold." 

XI. 

Slow-waving  flowers  arise,  as  if  the  Spring 
Had  blown  his  reedy  music  far  and  wide  — 


20  ATLANTIS. 

And  nightingales  begin  to  wave  the  wing 

And  pant  and  thrill  in  ecstasies  of  pride ; 

Their  welling  raptures   ripple  and  subside, 

Till  all  the  passing  zephyrs  swoon  with  song : 

"  Athena  comes  !    more  fair  than  crowned 

bride ! 
With  blast  nor  sleet,  ye  mounts,  her  presence 

wrong : 

Breathe  softly-loud  her  praise,  afar   the   chant 
prolong ! " 

xn. 

Now  swells  the  sea  its  coming  lord  to  greet : 
From  isle  to  isle  full  fast  the  tidings  drift ; 
The  speedy  billows  roll  around  his  feet; 
A  crescent-shapen  chariot  high  they  lift  ; 
They  urge  the  steed  from  out  the  watery 

rift, 
While  foamy  hands  make   haste  to  fling  the 

rein ; 
Ascends  the  god  —  the  dripping  wheels  are 

swift, 
The  glittering  hoofs   fast  beat   the   charmed 

main, 

Whose  surges  crouch  before  and  all  their  waves 
restrain ! 


CANTO  H. 


rOW  summer-fair,  in  central  ocean,  rose 
Thy  shore,    Atlantis,  wrought  with 

fret  and  bay ; 
What  time  the  orient  banners  might  disclose 
The  azure-staining  gules  of  dawning  day ! 
How  frail  thy  scarf  of  zephyr-wafted  spray, 
That  glimmered  while  the   sunshine  yet  was 

scant ! 
How  green  thy  paths,  where  glancing  lights 

did  play 

•  And  softly  sweep  the  forest-shades  aslant ! 
How  blest   the   soul  were   such   its   everlasting 
haunt ! 

IT. 

There  grew  all  flowers  the  brightness  to  en- 
hance ; 
There  lyre-like  winds  did   chime   in  every 


A  thousand  heights  did  shining  streams  elance, 
From   sun-lit   crags    to   valley    steeped    in 
shade  ; 


22  ATLANTIS. 

A  thousand  lucent,  winding  rivers  strayed 
By  fragrant  mounds,  where  flights  of  golden 

bees 

The   leaf-enshielded  chalices  o'erweighed, 
Spilling  the  dew  to  reach  the  honey-lees  ; 
And  there  were  verdant  palms  and  many  stately 
trees. 

in. 
There  shells  of  crimson  strewed  the  shadowy 

sands, 

As  sunset  clouds  on  ashen  skies  afloat ; 
And  there  all  birds  that  dwell   in   lightsome 

lands 
Shook  wings  of  flame,  and  sang  and  soared 

remote, 

Till  fain  the  senses  ceased  thereon  to  dote, 

And  but  the  happy  heart  with  song  was  sweet ; 

And  ah,  the  deepening  floods  of  light  that 

smote 

The  leafy  gates  of  every  dim  retreat, 
And   on   the    waveless   lakes   made  white   each 
flowery  fleet ! 


There  ruddy  fruits  on  lowly  tendrils  clung, 
Spicing  each   breeze   o'er  field   and  fertile 
cape; 


ATLANTIS.  23 

All  tropic  drupes  from  rustling  branches  hung, 
Sun  -  steeped,    delicious,   fair   of   hue   and 

shape ; 
And    vines    far-climbing,   such   as   greenly 

drape 

Unsightly  rocks,  o'er  every  boulder  grew ; 
Dark  waxed  the   crowded   clusters   of  the 

grape, 
Their  swelling  globes  earth's  rarest  sweetness 

drew, 

Till  warm   and   rich   they   swung,   a-drip   with 
purple  dew. 

v. 

Peace   smoothed  the  velvet  sward   of  every 

slope ; 

Earthquake  nor  avalanche  dared   the  still- 
ness shock ; 

By  swift  cascades  the  lithe-limbed  antelope, 
As    fleetly  vaulting,  leaped    from   rock   to 

rock; 
Each  glen   did   some   pure   fountain-source 

unlock, 

Where  panther,  ounce,  and  tawny  lion  drank 
Beside  the  antlered  herd  and  fleecy  flock; 
No  scarlet  death  might  stain  or  wave  or  bank, 
For  none  his  fellow  vexed  —  no  menaced  weak- 
ling shrank. 


24  ATLANTIS. 


VI. 

There  human  voices,  ever  soft  and  clear, 
Framed  murmuring  speech  or  rose  in  wafts 

of  song ; 
And  tremulous  laughters,  light  and  sweet  to 

hear, 

Echo's  fine  bugles  faintly  did  prolong: 
Gentle  and   free  the  race,  and   brave   and 

strong ; 

As  blithe  and  kindly  as  the  showers  of  Spring. 
Its  graceful  youth  the  blossomed  ways  did 

throng, 
With  smiles  and  blushes  bright  as  Love  may 

bring : 

In   beauty   bloomed    they   all,  and    none   went 
sorrowing. 

VII. 

Sea-green  of  Eld,  while  thus  the  cymbals  clash, 
The  lips  unskilled  assay  the  stately  theme  — 
How  all  thy  greatness  did  the  world  abash ; 
Thy  rule,  adoring  kings  account  supreme ; 
How,  for  thy  hurt,  dared  priest  nor  mon- 
arch scheme, 

Till  thine  own  deed  the  grievous  ruin  dealt  — 
Oh,  may  the  rugged  strain  some  sweetness 
seem 


ATLANTIS.  25 

To  gather,  as  the  breezy  echoes  melt ; 
And  grander  bards  forgive,  who   at   thy  grave 
have  knelt! 

VIII. 

No  murky  cloud  his  spotless  disk  to  hide, 
The  sun,  through  surges  vast  his  way  had 

cleft, 

And  all  the  crisping,  restive  waters  wide, 
Of  twilight's  wave-encumbering  shades  be- 
reft, 

Did  glister  as  a  snowy-thread  en  weft, 
With  flickering  gems  afloat  in  every  fold, 

And  soft  sea-colors  interwoven  deft: 
I  wis  nor  daisied  path  nor  street  of  gold, 
E'er   shone   as   this   whereon    great    Neptune's 
chariot  rolled. 

IX. 

All  night   its   gleaming  wheels   had   tracked 

the  waste  ; 

Like  serpents  ran  the  ripples  in  their  wake ; 
Their    beamy    coils    the    quivering    furrows 

traced, 

As  moonbeams,  over  crested  billows,  break 
Through    undulating    shade     and    frothen 

flake: 

All  night  the  ocean-steed,  with  tossing  head 
And  speedful  limbs  no  bird  might  overtake, 


26  ATLANTIS. 

With  streaming  mane  on  buoyant  winds  out- 
spread, 

From  Acta's  coast,  full  far,  his  westward  course 
had   sped. 

x. 

Across  the  wild  Ionian  floods  that  pour 
Libations  low  at  burning  ^Etna's  feet, 
Where   grand   Charybdis  breathes  his   sullen 

roar, 

Where  Tyrrhene  gulfs  their  Alpine  bound- 
aries beat, 
Through  pillar-guarded  straits  that  roll   to 

meet 

The  deep  Atlantic  —  cool  with  Arctic  streams, 
And  sounding  airs   too  swift  for   summer- 
heat, 

Yet  fresh   and  pure  as  childhood's  morning- 
dreams  — 

He    came,  the    god,    for    whom    with    life    old 
ocean  teems. 

XI. 

Around  the  reverent  water-creatures  trooped, 

Nereid  or  nymph   or  siren,  each   unveiled 

Her    wondrous    eyes,     whose    teary    lashes 

drooped 

O'er  lovely   cheeks   with   cavern-slumbers 
paled ; 


A  TLANTIS.  27 

Down   lapsing   waves   their  filmy   raiment 

sailed, 
Nor  scarce   their  half-emergent   forms  might 

screen  ; 
Along   the   surf  their   white   arms   lightly 

trailed, 

Or  lifted  high  the    sea-weed   garland   green  : 
They  swam  on  either  hand  —  the  chariot  rolled 
between. 

XII. 

And  every  naiad-voice  at  whiles  out-breaking, 
In  bursts  of  songful  sweetness  pealed 

around  ; 

Thereafter  valley-groves  and  uplands,  waking, 
All  resonant,  air-enriching  murmurs  found. 
No  passing  breath  but  bore  its  freight  of 

sound, 
And  by  unrifled  roses,  dying,  sang ; 

Nor    jarring    note    the    eager    ear    might 

wound, 

But  clear  and  loud   the    choral   paeans  rang, 
As  up  the  pebbled  beach   the    steed,  unweary, 
sprang. 

XIII. 

To    earth   light   leaped   the  god,  while   dale 
and  plain, 


28  ATLANTIS. 

And   ledge-built  cave  where  falling  waters 

hide, 

Thrilled  with  his  lifted  voice  that  rang  amain, 
And  "  Amphitrite  !  Amphitrite  !  "  —  wide 
The  bruiting  winds  his  ardent  summons 

cried, 

With  "  Amphitrite  !  "  startling  all  the  strand: 
Her  name  the  dewy  breeze,  far-floating, 

sighed, 

The  crimson  trouble  of  her  cheek  it  fanned, 
While,  slow   and   love-constrained,  she   crossed 
the  bounteous  land. 


XIV. 

Majestic  was  her  mien  ;  her  stately  head 
Enwreathed  with  silver  flowers  of  lake  and 

lea, 
Wherefrom  the  fragrance-loaden    drops  were 

shed 
Down   all   her   hair  that,  circling,    floated 

free  ; 
It   seemed  as    light   and   shade    did   there 

agree, 

And,  dimly-lustrous,  blend  and  interlace : 
Deep  were  her  eyes  and  colored  like    the 


ATLANTIS.  29 

As  wind-brought  wave  she   moved  with  un- 
dulate grace, 

And  all  the  goddess  shone   resplendent  in   her 
face ! 

xv. 

And  wheresoe'er  her  feet  did  press  the  vales, 

There  snow-excelling  asphodels  did  spring ; 

Her   smile   beholding,  mild  as  are  the   gales 

Of   slumberous    Iran   grew    the    wreakful 

king; 

Trident  nor  warring  javelin  might  he  fling, 
But  tuneful  as  celestial  marriage-lyres 

His   rapturous    song   made   all   the    aether 

ring, 

Through  azure  spaces  —  far  as  Love  aspires  ! 
Abashed    the    ocean    shrank    and    hushed    its 
trembling  choirs. 

XVI. 

"  My  bride,"   he  sang,  "  the   golden  isle   be 

ours  ! 
From    verge   to    verge    its    splendor    shall 

exceed ; 

Its  founts  shall  rise  in  youth-renewing  showers, 

Its  blushful   fruit  undying   lips  shall    feed. 

Here  Pan  all  day  shall  blow  his  river-reed, 

All  night  shall  oreads  breathe  their  roundels 

sweet ; 


80  ATLANTIS. 

Their  flitting  shapes,  from  whispering  ce- 
dars freed, 

Shall  haunt  as  dreams  our  shadow-veiled  re- 
treat, 

Where  slumber-silenced  hours  shall  move  with 
slothful  feet. 

XVII. 

"  Here  while  the  cycles  blissfully  appear, 
Our    kingly    sons    their    steadfast    thrones 

shall  climb : 
Swift  hands  shall  toil   their  templed  halls  to 

rear, 
Whose    cloud-hung  bells   on  soaring  winds 

shall  chime ; 
No   mystic   scripture  there  shall  threat  of 

time, 

No  voice  of  prophet  utter  woes  abroad  : 
But  clang  of  harp  and  chant  of  lore  sub- 
lime, 
Shall   heaven's    high-vaulted   roofs   of  peace 

defraud  : 

For    always    minstrels    proud   the    island    gods 
shall  laud ! 

XVIII. 

"Here    shall    the    sphere-descended    powers 
recline, 


ATLANTIS.  31 

Their  half-furled  wings  yet  tremulous  with 

flight ; 
Their  rose-like  cheeks   aflush  with  nectarous 

wine, 

Their  locks  afloat  on  aery   billows  bright ; 

While   mossy  couches    soft   to  rest   invite, 

By  rills,  whose  brinks  with  crystal  overflow, 

Their  love  celestial  shall  the  land  requite, 

Bid    vaunting    Death    the    beauteous    clime 

forego, 
And  on  its  blooming  race  immortal  life  bestow. 

XIX. 

"  And  there  shall  be  no  darkness  of  despair, 
No  voice  of  wailing  grief,  no  briny  tear ; 
The  liower,  to-day  half-budded,  shall  be  fair 
To-morrow,  nor  to-morrow  disappear ; 
The    strain    melodious,    willing   ears   shall 

hear 

Unsated  day  by  day ;  the  laughing   eye 
Shall  lose   no  light,  though   fleet  year  fol- 
low year ; 

There  shall  no  beauty  fade,  no  friendship  die, 
And   ever   sweetly  kind   shall    Love    to   Love 
reply." 


CANTO  III. 


MYSTIC  realm  where  ruled  the  death- 
less kings, 
While   times   unmeasured   rolled   in 

light  away ! 

Serene  wert  thou  with  oft-recurring   springs, 

And  soft   reflections  of  transplendent  day. 

Celestial  heralds  waved    their  bright  array 

Upon  thy  sunbeat  mountain-peaks,  aglow 

With  wandering  clouds  and  drifts  of  shining 

spray ; 

Far  soaring  skyward,  or  descending  slow, 
Their  silver-plumed  wings  swept  ever  to  and  fro. 

ii. 

Along  thy  rills  there  crept  no  boreal  breath  ; 
No    sounding    storm    o'er  tranquil   valleys 

whirled  ; 

Far-fleeting  thence,  that  silent  warrior  Death, 
O'er  sunless  snows  his  conquering  banners 

furled, 

Nor  darkened  noon  nor  crossed  a  withering 
world. 


ATLANTIS.  33 

Oft  through  thy  skies,  with   pomp   imperial 

riven, 

Great  Zeus  rode,  his  hissing  bolts  unhurled  : 
Down   jasper   ways    his   flying    steeds    were 

driven, 

And  all  the  isle  was  sweet  with  effluent  airs  of 
heaven. 

in. 

Alas,  the  sons  of  Neptune  I  proud  were  they, 

Of  princely  step  and  beauty  all  divine ; 
Their   word    the    fleet,    capricious   wind    did 

sway, 

Of  rushing  streams  the  boundaries  did  as- 
sign, 

Nor  less  compelled  the  ever-moving  brine : 

Low  at  their  feet  the  reverent  people  knelt, 

With    all   translucent    gifts    of  wave   and 

mine : 
'Neath  pillared  domes  of  wroughten  ore  they 

dwelt, 

And  tribute-burdened  fleets  their  shelly  coasts 
did  belt. 


For  them  the  West  its  riches  did  unbar; 
Kingdoms  obeyed  them  from  their  island- 
throne  : 


34  ATLANTIS. 

Nathless,  in  Acta's  glowing  land  afar, 
Loved  of  the  gods,  Athena  ruled  alone ! 
Against  her   cliffs   the  fettered   floods   did 

moan ; 

Her  opulent  olives  drooped  with  tawny  fruit ; 
Her  thousand   fields  with   crystal   torrents 

shone, 

Where  sylvan  sirens  smote  the  lightsome  lute, 
And  held,   with  dulcet  song,  all  wrackful  tem- 
pests mute. 

v. 

Through   groves   where   lentisk-boughs   their 

fragrance  breathed, 

Like  flitting  birds  abroad  her  arrows  flew ; 
The    whirring   barbs    in   many   a    dell   were 

sheathed, 
Whose    secret   waters  well    the    summons 

knew ; 
Elate  they  tossed  their  gemmy  founts   of 

dew  — 

Whereby   the   turf   its   sweetest    flowers   re- 
leased : 
Spray-cooled  and  fleet  the  delicate  breezes 

blew, 
Nor  soft-blown   pipes   their   light   responding 

ceased, 

While  loitering  nymph  or  goddess   spread   her 
fruitv  feast. 


ATLANTIS.  35 


vr. 

And  all  was  rest!  the  deer  unlimited  ranged, 

The  archer's  aim  no  circling  wing  assailed ; 

From  bloom  to   bloom   the   dreamful  seasons 

changed ; 

The  moony  nights  but  rarer  sight  unveiled, 
Of  blossom  vapor-white,  or  rainbow  paled, 
Or  faint  and  fleecy  citadel  of  cloud, 

Whose  glimmering   spires   in   ruddy  flame 

exhaled, 

What  time  to  greet  the  sun  mid  harpings  loud, 
At   once   the   glacial   heights  with   beacon-fires 
grew  proud. 


vn. 

The     sea-born    rulers     murmured    in     their 

towers  — 
"  Shall  isles  revere,  shall  North  and  South 

obey, 
Shall   heaven   be    red   with    gold    of  falling 

showers, 

But  Acta's  clime  no  costly  tribute  pay  ? 
Behold,  afar,  her  haughty  hills  array 
Their  slopes  in  summer  verdure :    fair  below 
Sleep  spicy  groves   and  rivers  warm  with 
day, 


36  ATLANTIS. 

Whose  beds  are  gems,  whose  waters  pure  and 

slow, 

Seem   stained  with   yellow  dates,  where   palms 
their  shadows  throw. 


"  And  lo,  the  stealthy  leopard  o'er  her.  plains 
Basks  in  the  sun   his   lustrous   black   and 

gold; 
And   scarlet  plumes    and    snow   of   feathery 

trains 

Flicker  among  the  grasses  of  the  mold ; 
With  many  a  graceful  coil  and  flexile  fold 
Do  gayly  glittering  serpents  charm  the  sight ; 
Unstinted  there  are  fadeless  hues  outrolled 
Of  amber,  blushing  rose,  and  lucid  white  — 
So  fair  is  Acta's  land,   so    blooming-rich  and 
bright!" 

IX. 

They  murmured  in  their  halls,  and  near  and 

far, 

From  lip  to  lip  in  haste  the  tale  was  told, 

With  voice  of  rising  wrath  and  vaunt  of  war, 

Fast-gathering  ranks  and  counsels  manifold. 

The  laughing  children  at  their  games  grew 

bold, 

Commanding   "  Give    us   arrows,    sharp   aifd 
strong ! 


ATLANTIS.  37 

No  more  shall  Acta's  sons  their  wealth  with- 
hold." 
And  lance  was  wrought,  with  halberd,  shield 

and  thong, 

Mid  clang  of  steel  and  brass  and  burst  of  battle- 
song. 

x. 

In   turbulent  haste   the   caverned  hills  were 

rent, 

Their  marble  pillars  cleft  and   overturned, 
Their  firm  rocks  torn  from   gorge   and   deep 

descent, 

Till  all  revealed  their  golden  bases  burned. 

Vainly  the  lofty  oak  his  fellows  spurned  — 

Rived,  from  his   lordly  height,  he,  shrieking, 

fell; 
Full  soon  the   strong-built   ships  for  ocean 

yearned, 

With  flashing  prows  that  did  the  surf  repel, 
And  wavering  sails  wherein  the  fair  winds  sought 
to  dwell. 

XI. 

Dawned  there  a  morn,  and  all  with  one  ac- 
cord 

Their  peaceful  garb  aside  the  people  cast ; 
Their  voiceful  legions  trod  the  lilied  sward, 


38  ATLANTIS. 

Loud  as  the  floods  where  hurricanes  have 

passed  ; 
At  Neptune's  shrine  'neath  echoing  arches 

vast, 

Thronging  they  bade  the  ivory  gates  divide : 
"  O   thou  whose   arm  withholds   the   win- 
nowing blast, 
Be  ours  thy  strength,  great   king   of  seas!" 

they  cried  — 

"  Thee  shall  nor  mortals  mock  nor  scornful  gods 
deride." 

XII. 

At  once  within  the  temple's  sacred  gloom, 

O'er  opalescent  shrine  and  coral  stair, 
Swift-spreading  flames  brake  forth  in  crimson 

bloom, 

And  flushed  their  light  along  the  dusky  air. 
The    fragrant    floors    of    sandal-wood    did 

wear 

The  hue  of  roses ;  arch  and  pictured  wall, 
Embossment,  frieze,  and  wreathen   column 

rare, 

Entablature  and  snowy  statue,  all 
Shone  fair  as  rifted  clouds  when  suns  of  sum- 
mer fall. 


ATLANTIS.  39 

XIII. 

And,  faint  and  soft,  a  rippling  sound  began 

Along  the  glowing  corridors  to  steal : 
Onward  the  ear-enchanting  numbers  ran, 
Far-flowing,   throbbing,   swelling,  peal    on 

peal, 
Till,  music- whelmed,  the  floating  sense  did 

reel: 

"  He  hears !  "  the  people  shouted,  all  attent ; 
"The  grateful  god  approves  our  holy  zeal : 
With  affluent  glory  lo,  he  smiles  assent; 
And  his  exulting  voice  foretells  the  glad  event ! " 


Thereat  the  surge-like  din  to  silence  fell : 

But  snatched  on  brazen  clarions  burst  anew  ; 
While    reed   and   light  bandore   with   gentle 

swell, 

Did  softly  beat  and  harsher  strains  subdue. 
Their  seaward  ways  did  rapturous  throngs 

pursue : 

The  foam  of  striving  waters  at  their  feet 
One  long  and  glittering   thread   of  silver 

threw ; 

And  viewless  aery  spirits,  wild  and  fleet, 
All  merrily  and  loud  their  wings  began  to  beat. 


40  ATLANTIS. 


I  ween  it  was  a  fair  and  goodly  sight  — 
A  thousand  vessels  rocking  on  the  tide, 
Like  white   swans   half- afloat,  half-poised   for 

flight, 

That  not  in  wave  nor  yet  in  air  abide  ; 
And  with  the  winds,  that  seemed  their  stay 

to  chide, 
Went  streaming  scarlet  pennons,  and  the  stir 

Of  yellow  flag  and  silken  awning  wide, 
And  cleaving  oar  of  hurrying  Islander, 
Did  all  with  music  soft  the  lingering  morn  deter. 

XVI. 

Followed  the  Noon,  her  white  hand   dipping 

low 

To  fret  the  goldened  waters  ;  sweet  as  sleep 
Breathed  parting  songs  that,  trembling,  drifted 

slow 
From  shores  receded :  eyes  there  were  did 

weep, 

In  bowery  haunts,  to  see  the  far  sails  sweep 
Their  snow  against  the  azure  of  the  East ; 
But  well  the  proud  ships   rode  the   sunny 

deep, 

Full  well  thereon  the  mirthful  din  increased, 
And   lofty-minded  youth   no   vaunt   of  victory 
ceased. 


ATLANTIS.  41 

XVII. 

The   skies   were  fair,    the    light   mist    swam 

above ; 

Under  the  lee  the  trooping  billows  laughed ; 

The  breeze  was  gentle  as  the  voice  of  love ; 

On  dimpled  waves  the  white  crest  waltzed 

abaft ; 

The  seas,  inebriate,  still  the  sunlight  quaffed, 
And  sank  and  sighed  with  luxury  of  wine : 

Idle  the  seamen  on  their  rocking  craft, 
That  orientward  did  constantly  incline, 
And  ever  fleetly  rode  the  unresisting  brine. 

XVIII. 

Cuirass  and  graven  helmet  caught  the  sun, 
Canopied  throne  and  flashing   crown  were 

there  ; 
Brave  webs  whose  thread  was  of  the  fine  gold 

spun, 

And  kingly  forms  adorned  beyond  compare. 
Lightly  they  rode,  nor  did  their  speed  for- 
bear : 

Ah,  goodly  was  the  sight,  but  first  that  day, 
Death,  in   thy  vales,    Atlantis,  spread   the 

snare  ; 

Hid  under  dewy  flowers  the  sure  dismay  ; 
Drew  his  unfailing  bow  and  set  the  shafts  that 
slay. 


42  ATLANTIS. 


XIX. 

Then   first  within   the   bud   the   slow   worm 

crawled ; 
Then  vipers  first  were  found   and   reptiles 

foul; 

Then  first  the  linnet's  downy  brood,  appalled, 
Shrank  from  the   murdering  talons   of  the 

owl : 

Then  beasts,  grown  terrible,  began  to  prowl 
Within  the  wood ;  then   children   learned   to 

wail, 
Maidens   to   sigh   and  vengeful   youths   to 

scowl. 

Woe,  woe,  Atlantis,  thou  who  didst  prevail ! 
Where  shall  thy  refuge   be,  when   angry   gods 
assail  ? 


CANTO  IV. 

i. 

Acta's  realm  a  cry  of  fear  was  heard, 
"  What  mean  these  troublous  voices 

of  the  sea  ? 
Wilder  than  shriek  of  battling  ocean-bird 
They  utter  prophecies  of  woes  to  be ; 
They  call,  they  answer  — 'Who  shall  help 

decree  ? 

Behold  the  wings  of  swift  despair  outspread ! 
Sleep  shall  make  bond   the   souls  that  yet 

are  free : 
Deep  sighs  there  be,  low-breathed  among  the 

dead, 

With  whisperings  faint   they  rise,  the   dewless 
winds  they  tread ! ' ' 

n. 
And  pale  were  Acta's  children :  "  Lo,"  they 

cried, 
"  The  sun,  at  noon,  has  worn   the  veil  of 

night ! 
Nor  now  in  steadfast  state  the  stars  abide, 


44  ATLANTIS. 

They  break  from  bound,  they  cleave  the 

skies  in  flight.     <• 
Drawn  on  the  vaporous  heaven  are  visions 

white 
Of  mighty  ships  with   mimic  sails,  that  dare 

Aerial  deeps,  and  loud  on  every  height 
Mysterious  tidings  sound,  '  Prepare,  prepare  ! 
The   ravening   eagle   flies,  the   lion   leaves   his 
lair!' 

in. 

"  And  fateful  clouds  that  guard  the  Delphic 

shrine 
Are    quick   with  flames    that  threaten   to 

devour ; 

And  dismal  cries  and  chantings  sibylline, 
Make  terrible  the  midnight's  moonless  hour. 
In     haste,    through    every    naiad-haunted 

bower, 

Some  herald,  terror-pale,  in    shadow  fleets : 
'  How  dread,'  they  cry,  '  how  dread  great 

Neptune's  power ! 
With   wanton    speed    he    rides    the    billowy 

streets : 

Prepare !  Athena's  voice   the    slumbering   land 
entreats  I ' " 


ATLANTIS.  45 

IV. 

Straight  flashed   the   steely  barb;   with  bor- 
rowed fire 
Shone   burnished    mail    and    golden-hilted 

glaive : 

Slept  on  the  sunny  turf  the  fallen  lyre  ; 
And  tocsin-peal,  and  blare  of  cornet  brave, 
And  beaten  tabret  did  the  winds  enslave : 
Up   from   their   homes    the   hurrying   people 


With   wandering    eyes    that    scanned    the 

rolling  wave, 

Or  pierced  the  vaulty  azure  of  the  West, 
And   sought,   they  knew   not   what,  or,   trem- 
bling, dimly  guessed. 

v. 

Perchance  no  more  than  darkness  of  eclipse, 
Or  silver  star  beyond  his  fellows  whirled  ; 
Or  far  fantastic  forms  of  mimic  ships, 
With  frail,  ethereal  sails  in  air  unfurled : 
Or  if  Destruction  o'er  a  darkening  world, 
Sped  by  the  angry  gods  should  whet  his  blade, 
Ere  yet  the    dire-impending  wrath  were 

hurled, 

Might  fair  Athena,  swift  her  sons  to  aid, 
Arrest  his  crimson  arm  and  bid  their  doom  be 
stayed. 


46  ATLANTIS. 


VI. 

Such    heavenly    help    the    kneeling    people 

sought ; 

At  every  shrine   they  breathed   their   rev- 
erent vows: 
When,  borne  from  far,  on  rising  blasts,  they 

caught 
The  noise  of  swelling  floods  and  cleaving 

prows. 

Uplifted  they  their  earth-abased  brows, 
With  breath  that  scarce,  for  wonder,  heaved 

the  breast; 
As    when     his    path    the    sparry    iceberg 

plows 
Through    drifting    deeps,    fast   rending   crest 

from  crest, 
So  that  far-voyaged  fleet  the  waters  did  molest. 

VII. 

And  scarlet  pennons  floated  on  the  gales, 

And  yellow  flags  were  waving  in  the  sun  ; 
On   glittering   yards   full  whitely  swung   the 

sails  — 
Bay-wreathed  were  they,  as  Victory,  lightly 

won, 

Already  smiled  and  told  of  battles  done ; 
Loud  were  the  singing  crews,  the  dense  array 


ATLANTIS.  47 

Of  armed  men,  proud  sire  and  princely  son  : 
Their  lances  poised,  their  arrows  winged  for 

fray, 

Bright-panoplied  they  stood,  alert  and  strong  to 
slay. 

VIII. 

On     tides    that    did    the   verdant   headlands 

threat 
Their  bounding  ships  rode  up  the  whelmed 

shore ; 

For  rushing  winds  did  rushing  waves  abet  — 
Those  struck  the  mast,  these  at  the  helm 

did  roar, 
Till,    cast   on    verdant    meads,    the    keels 

forbore, 

And  eddying  surges,  sinking,  swept  the  beach. 
Not  then  did   kneeling   crowds   their  gods 

implore ; 

None  made  assay  to  daunten  or  beseech : 
But  swift  as  hurtling  clouds  each  launched  his 
bolts  on  each. 

IX. 

Then  was  there  din  that  shook  the  crag-built 

land, 

Upstartling    every    harp-lulled    mountain- 
blast  ; 

Then  cavern-spirits  shrieked  from    strand   to 
strand, 


48  ATLANTIS. 

While  oreads  fled,  and  giants  stood  aghast ! 
Front  hurled  on  front  with  tramp  of  legions 

vast, 

Clashing  of  shields  and  clang  of  flying  spear ; 
With  flame   of  far-flung   missiles   foeward 

cast  ; 

With  neigh  of  steed,  wild  shout  of  charioteer, 
And  rush  of  wheels   on-rolled   in   battle's  mad 
career. 


Ah,  fair  Atlantis,  island  of  the  blest, 

What  crystal  fountain  fed  these  fiery  veins  ? 
What  sounding  lyre  of  star-descended  guest, 
Chimed  prelude   soft   to  rouse   these  war- 
ring strains? 

What  purple   bloom   outbreathed   in   sum- 
mer rains, 

Foretold  the  hue  of  Acta's  blushing  soil, 
When   these,  thy  sons,   should   tread   her 

lovely  plains, 

With  fearful  onslaught  urging  dire  recoil, 
Till    flight    and    swift    pursuit    should    Acta's 
strength  despoil? 

XI. 

Against  her  hills  the  waning  battle  rolled, 
Through  shadowy  grove,  green  glade,  and 
dewy  strath  ; 


ATLANTIS.  49 

And  tossing  plumes  and  gleams  of  ruddy  gold, 
And    flaunting    banners    flashed    along   its 

path. 
The   drowsy  caverns  caught   the  voice  of 

wrath, 
That  shrieked  from  rank  to  rank,  the  fierce 

harangue, 

The  cheer,  the  dying  wail  on  fields  of  scath, 
.    The  din  of  falling  blades,  the  trumpet-clang, 
That,  grandly  pealing   forth,  of  certain  victory 
sang. 

XII. 

Athena  heard  and  snatched  her  ancient  bow, 
Whose  shafts  had  cleft  the  round  of  many 

a  shield  ; 

Far  down  the  heights  of  everlasting  snow 
The    winged     steeds     her     silver    chariot 

wheeled. 
Their  fleet  hoofs   struck   the  gashed   and 

bleeding  field,  — 

O'er  all  the  land  celestial  splendors  ran, — 
"  Arouse !  "  she  cried  ;  "  your  idle  javelins 

wield : 

No  coward  foe  shall  smiling  Neptune  scan  ! " 
And   waved   her   standard   white    and   led   the 
whirling  van. 
4 


50  ATLANTIS. 


XIII. 

As  when  some  strong  wind  smites  an  ocean's 

verge, 

And  buffets  back  the  rage  of  rising  tides, 
And  haling   swell  o'er   swell  and   surge  o'er 

surge, 
(Afleck  with  foam  down  all  their  reeking 

sides  ;) 

On  vaulting  waves  majestically   rides  — 
So  swept  Athena's  hosts,  their   strength  un- 
shorn, 
Wild    with    the    call    of   clarion-sounding 

guides : 

So  hurled  her  foes  in  headlong  flight  forlorn, 
Triumphant   o'er  them  rode  and  laughed   their 
power  to  scorn ! 

XIV. 

So  perished  all  their  glory!   in  the  vales, 
Like   new-mown  flowers,  the  fallen  heroes 

lay; 
Gules  on  the  breast  and  down  their  shining 

mails, 

As  each  his  beauteous  being  gasped  away : 
Nor  trampling  steed  nor  legion  might  affray 
Their   dying   eyes,    slow-turning   toward    the 
West; 


ATLANTIS.  51 

Somewhat  they  seemed  to  see  of  isle  and  bay; 
Green   forest,    silvery  fount,   and    sun-bright 

guest, 

Whereat  in  smiles  they  sank,  with  healing  slum- 
bers blest. 

xv. 

Not  fairer  are  the   lilies;  every    brow- 
In  smooth  repose  seemed  sculptured  of  the 

snow  ; 

And  many  a  palm-tree's  victor-loving  bough 
Thereon   did   soft   and    wreathed   shadows 

throw. 

Rolled  Acta's  paeans  o'er  her  fallen  foe, 
Yet  calm  as  restful  conquerors  were  these, 
Who,    pale   and    battle- worn,    their   spoils 

forego, 

Content   with   silence   and  with   balmy  ease, 
Lulled  by  the  rustling  winds,  and  stir  of  whis- 
pering  seas. 

XVI. 

White  lip  to  lip  the    cavern -spirits  sighed  — 
"And  shall   their   morning   songs  resound 

no  more, 
Their  laughter   sweet  the   mourning  zephyrs 

chide, 

When  ghostly  Evening  flits  from  shore  to 
shore,?" 


fi2  A  TLANTIS. 

Each   sobbing   wave   the   grievous   burden 

bore, — 
"  And  shall  they  perish,  they   who  long  did 

reign  ? 
Shall     ocean-kings    nor    heavenly    powers 

restore'? 

Lo !  where  Athena  triumphs  o'er  the  slain  — 
*  Their   god    shall    aid   them  not  —  herein    his 
might  is  vain  !  ' 

XVII. 

"  And    hark  !    the    people    answer,  — '  Who 

shall  save  ? 

From  Acta's  fields  up-gather  ye  the  dead  ; 

Let  proud  Atlantis  haste  to  build  their  grave, 

And  weave  her  linens  white  to  deck  their 

bed. 

How  is  her  hope  despoiled,  her  greatness  fled, 

Her  beauty  faded,  and  her  strength  waxed  old  ! 

How  are  her  vessels  freighted  —  in  the  stead 

Of  silks  and   precious  things,  and  slaves  and 

gold! 

They  shall  return,  nor  long  their  merchandise 
withhold.'  " 

XVIII. 

O'er   Acta's   strand   are   tidal  surges  tossed ; 
The  keel-rent   swards  each   golden  frigate 
spurn : 


ATLANTIS.  53 

Woe,  woe  for  those  who  wait  the  bannered  host, 
And  dream  of  sails  and  prate  of  sweet  re- 
turn ! 
It  skills  not  now  that  blushing  love  should 

yearn,  , 

Or  spread  the  feast,  or  honeyed  nectar  pour : 
Full  fair  in  heaven  the  sunset  glories  burn, 
Against  a  scarlet  west  the  white  sails  soar, 
But  from  the  prow  no  voice  shall  hail  the  rising 
shore. 

XIX. 

Yet  happy  eyes  are  watching  while  the  spray, 

Like  filmy  gossamer  wavers  in  the  air ; 
Where  drive  the  ships  along  their  homeward 

way, 

As  ever  silently  to  land  they  fare. 
Jocund  are  throbbing   hearts  and  debonair 
The  rippling  laugh,  the  lightly  lifted  face : 

What  soul  the  starless  night  of  swift  despair, 
Beyond    such    soft    and    lustrous    eve   could 

trace  — 

Or,  trembling,  feel  the  doom  whose  terror  comes 
apace  ? 

xx. 

Idly  the  fleet  lay  rocking  in  the  bay  — 
None  trimmed  the  mast  or  furled  the  silken 
sail; 


54  ATLANTIS. 

There  blazed   no   sun-lit   shield,  no   gemmed 

array 

Of  armed  princes,  mighty  to  prevail : 
They  slept,  who  erst  made  mirthful  every 

gale  — 
Their  death-drawn  lids  full  heavy  were  with 

rest! 
Then  who  for  fear  and  wonder  waxed  not 

pale, 
Nor  shrieked  with  grief,  nor  beat  the  sobbing 

breast  ? 

But  hate  nor  weeping  love  the  slumberers  might 
molest. 

XXI. 

Alas,  the  pallid  dead  !  they  mutely  slept, 

Forever  unaware  of  foe  and  friend : 
If  roses  bloomed,  if  skies  their  grandeur  kept, 
If  whirlwinds  made  the  writhing  seas  con- 
tend, 

If  earthquakes  all  the  panting  hills  did  rend, 
They  recked  not :  Peace,  to  them,  her  quiet 

gave, 

Wail,  wail,  Atlantis  !  since  if  Love  must  end, 
No   bounding   heart   shall   wintry  grief  out- 
brave : 

When  fall  the  bolts  of  wrath,  no  god  enthroned 
shall  save. 


ATLANTIS.  55 

XXII. 

And  soon  shall   Heaven    its   fiery  vengeance 

wreak ; 
Destruction    hastes,  and    none    shall   help 

decree, 

Vainly  the  guilty  people,  kneeling,  shriek  — 

Powerless  the  arm  to  thwart,  the  foot  to  flee. 

O  stricken  island,  dread  thy  doom  shall  be ! 

From  verge  to  verge,  lo,  sudden  darkness  falls, 

And  utter  silence,  sealing  land  and  sea. 
An  awful  solitude  the  soul  appalls  — 
No   night-bewildered   bird,   or   beast,  his  fellow 
calls. 

XXIII. 

Then  through  the  desert  spheres,  one,  soaring, 

sped, 

Whose  far-heard  voice  of  wrath  did  proph- 
esy: 

"  Shall  proud  Atlantis  yet  exalt  her  head, 
TJprear  her  puny  arm,  the  heavens  defy, 
Make  mock  afar  and  snatch  what  gods  deny  ? 
Behold  the  veiled  stars  her  judgment  wait, 
The  unleashed  thunders  crouch  within  the 

sky! 

Who  shall  the  rage  of  whelming  tides  abate  ? 
She   shall    be    fallen,    fallen,    fallen,    who    was 
great !  " 


56  ATLANTIS. 

XXIV. 

What  dying  prayers  avail  when  gods  revile  ? 

Burst  then  the  terrors  of  the  hour  of  doom  ! 

Ah,  then  how  shook  the  river-nurtured  isle, 

Through    all    its    dewy    vales    of   summer 

bloom ! 

Hurled  o'er  its  cliffs  did  briny  surges  loom, 
Up-gathered  from  the  valleys  of  the  deep  ; 
Yawned  underneath  the  hills  their  welter- 
ing tomb, 

And  waves  therefrom  did  cedarn  harvests  reap ; 
Sank  glade  and  toppling   dome,  tall   palm   and 
cloven  steep. 


Sank  —  while  on  high  the  sheeted  lightnings 

burned, 

And  wasting   clouds  were  white   with  bil- 
lowy fire  — 

Arose  and  sank,  as  yet  the  sea-queen  yearned 
For  empire  lost ;  with  strife  of  strong  desire 
Lifting  from  midnight  gulfs  the  shattered 

spire, 
The  city  .overthrown,  the  fallen  height ; 

Till  all  revealed  and  shamed  with  ruin  dire 
The  wrath-doomed  realm,  slow-sinking,  van- 
ished quite, 

With  all  her  pride  and  pomp,  her  beauty  and 
her  might ! 


A  TLANTIS.  57 


XXVI. 

Rolled  over  all  the  devastating  floods : 

No  more  shall  lovers  haunt  the  babbling  rills ; 

No  more  shall  Summer  dress  her  golden  buds, 

Or  wind  her  misty  wreaths  among  the  hills ; 

No  more  shall  breezy  night  be  sweet  with 

trills, 
In  light,  delicious,  music-morsels  tossed: 

But  still  the  sea-born  kings  recount  their  ills, 
Nor  evermore  their  mournful  theme  exhaust, 
Of  all  thine  ancient  worth,  thou  island  loved  and 
lost! 

XXVII. 

By  torrid  shores  they  breathe  their  constant 

plea  — 

"  Arise,  O  thou  of  majesty  serene  ! 
Break  from  the  prison-chambers  of  the  sea, 
Come   forth   in   all   thy  jeweled   garments 

green  ! " 

And  where,  full  far,  the  arctic  ships  careen, 
Through  ice-wrought  caves  their  wailing  sor- 
rows swell : 
"Where   are   thy   templed   hills,  O   fallen 

queen  ? 

Arise,  Atlantis,  thou  who  didst  excel !  " 
Light  winds  their  voices  waste  :  —  proud  isle  of 
Eld,  farewell. 


EPODE. 


LOVED,  my  Country  !  there  was  one 

of  old, 

Whose    chariot    o'er    the    peace- 
charmed  surges  rode ; 

The  morning  sun  was  in  his  locks  of  gold, 
And  on  his  cheek  rose-ruddy  youth  abode  ; 
His  ocean-steed  thy  sparkling  borders  trode  ; 
The   while    his   voice    he   reared,   and    rock 

and  lea 
On    bruiting    winds    abroad    their   echoes 

strowed : 

"  Awake,"  he  cried,  "  O  goddess  of  the  Free ! 
Reach  forth  thy  sceptred  hand,  and  rule  from 
sea  to  sea." 

ii. 
Uprose   fair  Liberty  :  her  stately  head 

Enwreathed  with   snow-excelling  fountain- 
flowers, 

That  lightly  down  her  savage   vesture    shed 
In  honey-heavy  drops  their  silver  showers. 


ATLANTIS.  59 

"  My  bride,"  he    sang,  "  the   golden   land 

be  ours  ! 
Aflush   with    fruit  its    vines    shall    sunward 

climb : 

Herein  shall  swift  hands  build  our  glitter- 
ing towers, 
Where  bards  shall  chant  their  heaven-taught 

lore  sublime ; 

Nor  hand  along  the  wall  nor    scripture   threat 
of  Time. 

in. 

"  While  blissful  cycles  rise  and  disappear, 
Shall  vaunting  Death  the  beauteous  realm 

forego : 
Its  stars  shall  shine  though  fleet  year  follow 

year, 
Through  bounteous  vales  its  crystal  rivers 

flow. 

On  all  its  dazzling  mountain-peaks  of  snow 
Shall  blaze  the  beacons  of  celestial  day ; 
From    verge    to    verge    their   sun-lit  fires 

shall  glow, 
Pierce  the  dun   mists   and   burn   the   shades 

away : 

Therewith  shall   field   and   flood  themselves   in 
light  array." 


60  ATLANTIS. 


IV. 

My  Country,  thus  with  Truth  and  Freedom 

blest, 
Who  for  thy  hurt   had  dared  to   barb  the 

dart, 
Save  that   thine  arm,  far-reaching  from   the 

West, 
Had  plunged  the  knife  in  Afric's  bleeding 

heart. 

O  guilty  nation,  jeering  at  the   mart 
Where    men    were    scourged,    and    swarthy 

maidens  sold, 
When  Vengeance  rose  what  arm  his  bolts 

could   thwart? 
Unstayed    the    blood-dyed   billows   o'er   thee 

rolled  — 

Down  dropped  the   night  of  Death !    Ah  then 
what  heart  was  bold? 

v. 

While  yawned  amid  the  deeps  thy  weltering 

tomb, 
Lo,   yet,   thy  late   repentance  winged   the 

prayer ; 
Heaven   smiling  heard,   blue  skies   began  to 

bloom, 

Dawn  touched  thy  hills   and  wrapped  thy 
valleys  fair ; 


A  TLANTIS.  61 

Woke    all   thy  seers,    of   deepening    light 

aware  ; 

Swift-falling  flames  thy  crimson  altars  caught ; 
Day  crowned   thy  Ruler  :    he  who,  strong 

to  dare, 
Had   long  with  hell-born  Slavery,  grappling, 

fought, 

And  hurled   him  down  the  pit,  and  thy  salva- 
tion wrought. 

VI. 

On  Freedom's  golden  threshold  mute  he  stood, 

And  bore  aloft  the  star-embroidered  sign  — 

His   drooping   brow  bedewed  with   sweat   of 

blood, 

His  sad  eyes  steeped  in  tears  of  love  divine  ; 
And  sighing  yet,  "  Thy  will,  O  God,  not 

mine," 
His   clinging   crown    of  thorns   half-snatched 

away, 

His  wan  lips  wet  with  crucifixion-wine  — 
He  stood  —  pale  herald  of  millennial  day, 
While    Judas    paused    afar    and    whispered, 
"Slay  him  —  slay  !  " 

VII. 

O  people  wailing  for  the  first-born,  dead ! 
O  morn  transplendent,  quenched   in   utter 
night ! 


62  ATLANTIS. 

O   graves  from   which   the   sheeted   sleepers 

fled! 
O  martyr,  heavenward  caught  from  Olive's 

height ! 
Yet  in   the   book   shall   listening   prophets 

write ; 
Yet    througli    the    heavens   the    seven   swift 

angels  soar ; 
Vials  shall  yet  be  given  and   swords  shall 

smite ; 
On  sea  and  land  red  Wrath  his  plagues  shall 

pour: 

Lo,    Babylon   the    Great   shall   fall   to   rise   no 
more  ! 

VIII. 

Come  out  of  her,  my  Country  —  stand  afar  ! 
To  heaven  her  smoke  of  torment  shall  be 

rolled ; 

Her   thousand    streets    shall   feel   the   earth- 
quake's jar ; 
Her  strong-built  temples   crumble,  waxing 

old. 

Woe   for  her  fruits,  her  merchandise   un- 
sold, 

Her  precious  wood,  her  pearls  and  linen  fine, 
Her  slaves  and  souls  of  men,  her  silks  %nd 
gold! 


ATLANTIS.  63 

The   kings   of  earth   are   drunken   with   her 

wine : 

Partake  not  of  her   sins   nor  make   her  judg- 
ments thine. 

IX. 

Come  forth !  for  thee  the  golden  city  waits, 
Within  whose   guarded   wall   is   found   no 

night : 

Of  lucid  pearl  are  all  its  shining  gates  ; 
Lo,    its    foundations    garnished    are    and 

bright 

With  sardonyx  and  chalcedony  white, 
Topaz  and  crystal,  jasper  past  compare, 

Sapphire  and  sardius  and  chrysolite, 
Jacinth  and  amethyst  and  beryl  fair : 
Who  shall  the  length   and  breadth  and  height 
thereof  declare  ? 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  THE   DEAD. 

APRIL,  1861. 

S  the  groaning  earth  stabbed  to  its  core  ? 
Are  the  seas  oozing  blood  in  their  bed  ? 
Have  all  troubles  of  ages  before 
Grown  quick  in  those  homes  of  the  dead? 

The  red  plagues  of  yore  — 
Must   they  to   our   season  be  wed? 

We  thought  the  volcano   of  War 

Would  belch  out  its  flames  in  the  East; 

We  knew  where  the  winds  were  ajar 
With  the  quarrel  of  soldier  and  priest; 

We  shuddered  —  though  far  — 
To  think  how  the  vultures  might  feast. 

We  said,  "  We  have  Liberty's  smile : 
Go  to !  we  are  safe  in  the  West ! " 

But  the  plague-spot  was  on  us   the  while, 
And  the  serpent  was  warm  in  our  breast : 

We  can  no  more  revile  — 
The  ox  is  for  sacrifice  dressed. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF   THE  DEAD.       65 

Do  ye  hear,  O  ye  Dead,  in  your  tombs  — 
Ye  Dead,  whose  bold  blows  made  us  free  — 

Do  ye  hear  the  reveille  of  drums  ? 
Can  ye  say  what  the  issue  shall  be  ? 
Past  the  midnight  that  comes, 
Is  the  noon  rising  up  from  the  sea  ? 

Who  whispered  ?     Is  life  underneath 

Astir  in  the  dust  of  the  brave  ? 
For  there  steals  to  my  ear  such  a  breath 

As  can  only  steal  out  of  the  grave : 
"  Ye  must  go  down  to  death  : 

Ye  have  drunk  of  the  blood  of  the  slave." 

We  have  sinned,  we  have  sinned,  O  ye  Dead  I 
Our  fields  with  the  out-crying  blood 

Of  Abel,  our  brother,  are  fed : 

Must  we  therefore  be  drowned  in  the  flood  ? 

Waits  no  Ararat's  head? 
Is  no  ark  guided  there  by  our  God? 

"  Ye  must  go  down  to  death  :  have  ye  heard 
The  tale  of  the  writings  of  yore, — 

How  One  in  the  sepulchre   stirred, 

And  cast  off  the  grave-clothes  he  wore  ? 

In  the  flesh  dwelt  the  Word  — 
Inheriting  life  evermore. 


66   THE  PROPHECY  OF  THE  DEAD. 

"  When  the  foes  of  the  nation  have  pressed 
To  its  lips  the  sponge  reeking  in  gall ; 

When  the  spear  has  gone  into  its   breast, 
And  the  skies  have  been  rent  by  its  call ; 

It  shall  rise  from  its  rest : 
It  shall  rise  and  shall  rule  over  all." 


THE   SOLDIER'S   MOTHER. 

=  WAKE,  little  daughter,  awake! 

The  sad  moon  is  weaving  her  shroud ; 
'The  pale,  drooping  lily-bells  quake  ; 
The  river  is  sobbing  aloud. 

I  want  your  sweet  face  in  my  sight, 
While  I  open  my  room  to  the  night : 
The  torn  clouds  are  flying,  the  lupine   is  sigh- 

ing> 
The  whip-poor-will  wails  in  affright. 

There  's  a  shadow  just  marked  on  the  floor  — 

Now  soaring  and  breaking  its  bond; 
'T  is  the  woodbine,  perhaps,  by  the  door, 
Or  the  blooming  acacia  beyond. 
Oh,  pitiful  weakness  of  grief! 
Oh,  trouble,  of  troubles  the  chief! 
When  shades  can  assail  us,  and  terrors  impale  us, 
At  sight  of  a  quivering  leaf. 

I  weep,  little  daughter,  I  weep  ; 

But  chide  me  not,  love,  for  I  heard, 
Three  times  in  the   depth  of  my  sleep, 

The  clang  of  a  terrible  word. 


68  THE  SOLDIER'S  MOTHER. 

"  Your  Harry  is  dying,"  it  cried  ; 
"  Is  dying  "  and  "  dying,"  it  sighed  ; 
As  bells  that,  in  tolling,  set  echoes  to  rolling, 
Till  fainting  sound  ebbs  like  the  tide. 

Then  the  walls  of  my  room  fell  away ; 

My  eye  pierced  the  distance  afar, 
Where,  by  the  plowed  field  of  the  fray, 
The  camp-fire  shone  out  like  a  star. 
And  southward,  unhindered,  I  fled, 
By  the  instinct  of  motherhood  led  ; 
The  night-wind  was  blowing,  the  red  blood  was 

flowing, 
And  Harry  was  dying  —  was  dead  ! 

I  dreamed,  little  daughter,  I  dreamed  — 

Look !  the  window  is  lit  by  a  face. 
It  is  not  ?     Well,  how  life-like  it  seemed ! 
Go,  draw  down  the  curtains  of  lace. 
It  may  be  't  was  only  a  flower ; 
For  fancy  has  wonderful  power. 
The  loud  wind   is  whirring  —  hark  !  something 

is  stirring  — 
'T  is  midnight  —  the  clock  knells  the  hour. 


The  horseman  had  ridden  all  night; 
His  garments  were  spotted  with  gore ; 


THE  SOLDIER'S  MOTHER.  69 

His  foot  crushed  the  lily-bells  white  — 
He  entered  the  vine-covered  door. 

"  Your  Harry  is  dying,"  he  said : 
The  mother  just  lifted  her  head, 
And  answered,  unweeping,  like  one  who  is  sleep- 
ing* 
"  Not  dying,  good  soldier,  but  dead  I  " 


FORT  DONELSON. 

FEBRUARY  16,  1862. 

OW  what  the  tide  of  Right  can  stay  ? 

The  Southern  demon  cowers ; 
Our  foes  fling  down  their  arms  to- 
day — 
Fort  Donelson  is  ours  ! 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys  ! 

Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars  ! 
Three  times  three  cheers  !  —  pale  Trea- 
son hears, 
And  owns  the  Stripes  and  Stars ! 

Three  days  have  loyal  hearts  and  true 

Poured  out  their  crimson  showers  ; 
Oh,  never  fell   such  precious  dew ! 
Fort   Donelson  is  ours  I 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys  ! 
Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars ! 
Three  times  three  cheers  !  —  our  country 

hears  : 
All  hail  the  Stripes  and  Stars  ! 


FORT  DONELSON.  71 

Wild  ran  the  fire  along  our  veins, 

To  nerve  our  failing  powers  ; 
We  strewed  with  death  the   reeking  plains  ; 
But  —  Donelson  is  ours  ! 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys  ! 

Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars ! 
Three   times   three   cheers!   till   Europe 

hears : 
All  hail  the  Stripes  and  Stars  I 

The  frowning  hills  above  us  stood 

Like  doorless,  granite  towers : 
There  traitors  lurked,  athirst  for  blood ; 
They  and  the  hills  are  ours  ! 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys ! 

Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars ! 
Three    times    three    cheers !  —  Creation 

hears  : 
All  hail  the  Stripes  and  Stars ! 

Down  on  our  right  their  cannon-balls 
Dropped  swift  as  summer  showers  ; 
On  rushed  our  troops  —  right   through  their 

walls  I 
Fort  Donelson  was  ours! 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys  I 
Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars ! 


72  FORT  DONELSON. 

Three  times  three  cheers  !  —  high  Heav- 
en hears : 
All  hail  the  Stripes  and  Stars  ! 

Yes,  Heaven  and  we  have  won  the  day  — 

The  Southern  demon  cowers  ; 
Now  what  the  tide  of  Right  can  stay  ? 
Fort   Donelson  is  ours ! 

Up  with  the  Federal  flag,  my  boys ! 

Down  with  the  Stars  and  Bars ! 
Three  times  three  cheers  !  —  three  times 

three  cheers  I 
God  save  the  Stripes  and  Stars ! 


THE  BATTLE  OF  GAINES'  HILL. 

JUNE  27,  1862. 
INSCRIBED  TO  THE  GALLANT  PENNSYLVANIA  RESERVES. 

'HE  battle's  last,  long  thunders  rolled ; 
The   witness-cloud    to    heaven   was 

swept ; 
And  night,  the  ghostly  seer   and  old, 

Around  our  blood-drenched  borders  crept : 
Upon  our  arms  we  slept. 

We  slept :   but  night,  that  ancient  seer, 
Conned  o'er  us  his  prophetic   lore ; 

And  whispered  low  in  many  an  ear, 
'•  Thou  art,  but  thou  shalt  be  no  more 
When  next  the  cannons  roar." 

Sleep,  that  should  lift  the  rugged  cross 
From  staggering  souls,  but  deepened  pain, 

With  conscious  sense  of  coming  loss, 
That  like  a  wind  preceding  rain 

Blew  cold  across  the  brain. 


74       THE  BATTLE   OF  GAINES1  HILL. 

But  ah,  the  rain  to  come  I    No  noise 
Within  our  guarded  limits  ran  ; 

But  heavy  hands  shook  slumber's  poise, 
And  wearily,  in  rear  and  van, 
Our  dark  retreat  began. 

The  stars,  with  crimson  torches,  sought 
Their    darkened    pathways     through     the 

skies, 

When  woke  our  challenge-guns,  and  brought 
From  wary  foemen's  batteries 

The  boom  of  quick   replies ; 

As  if  fresh  slaughter  to  prelude : 

The  while  —  by  stratagem  discreet  — 

Receding,  pausing,  scarce  pursued, 
With  no  disorder  of  defeat, 

So  moved  our  slow  retreat. 

But  when  the  sun  his  sword  unsheathed, 
And  smote  us  sore,  at  bay  we  stood  — 

To  God,  the  Just,  our  lives  bequeathed ; 
Planted  our  guns  by  vale  and  wood, 
To  wait  the  rain  of  blood. 

It  came !     Full   soon   the  war-fiend  came  — 

Stern  as  hell's  king,  and  fiery-browed  I 
We  saw  him  smite,  with  hand  of  flame, 


THE  BATTLE   OF  GAINES'  HILL.       75 

The  solemn  battle-harp  and  proud, 

Where  rose  the  sulphurous  cloud. 

Behind  our  potent  guns  we  stood  — 

Therefrom  the  awful  war-bolts  flew  ; 
Bomb  following  bomb,  full  many  a  rood 
They     plowed     the     smoking     woodlands 
through, 

And  what   beside  —  God  knew. 

We  waited  till  the  hour  approved, 
To  hurl  our  forces  undismayed, 

Where  Death  in  all  his  grandeur  moved; 
God's  cause  and  Liberty's  to  aid 
By  bayonet,  ball,  or  blade. 

There,  fires  that  leap  when  patriots  fall, 
All  startling  sights  that  cowards  shun  ; 

All  sounds  that  hurtle  and  appall  — 
The  bursting  shell,  the  roaring  gun  — 
O'er  all,  the  seething  sun ! 

Full  closely  swarmed  the  traitor  horde; 

Across  the  hill  their  bullets  sang  ; 
Along  our  yielding  van  they  poured  — 

Their  shouts  like  peals  of  victory  rang  — 
Then,  at  the  word,  we  sprang. 


76         THE  BATTLE   OF  GAINES'  HILL. 

Sweeping   into  the  front  we  came  ; 

Awhile  along  the  hill-side  bent, 
Charged  through  the  deep  ravine,  to  claim 

Its  walls,  for  none  but  heroes  meant  — 
God  with  us,  as  we  went. 

Then  did  War's  crashing  music  roll  I 
Then  did  the  fire  of  battle-wrath 

Rush  hot  through  every  loyal  soul ; 

And  where  we  swept,  o'er  all  the  path, 
Was  agony  and  scath. 

The  leaden  hail  smote  left  and  right ; 

The  air  was  like  a  furnace  red  ; 
The  sky  was  dizzy  with  the  sight ; 

The  sun  was  reeling  overhead  : 

You  could  not  count  our  dead. 

We  saw  their  broken  columns  swerve  ; 

They  shook  and  faltered  at  the   test; 
New  vigor  shot  through  every  nerve, 

And  hand  to  hand  and  breast  to  breast, 
The  glorious  charge  we  pressed. 

We  drove  them  from  the  gory  banks  — 

Through  forest-aisles   their  courses  urged; 
By  field  and  wood  their  eddying  ranks, 


THE  BATTLE    OF  GAINES1  HILL.       77 

Like  storm-tossed  billows  backward  surged, 
By  Northern  valor  scourged. 


The  battle's  last,  long  thunders  rolled ; 

And  down  the  vaulted  skies,  once  more, 
Came  night,  the  ghostly  seer  and  old, 

To  read  fulfillment  of  his  lore, 

In  streams   of  stiffening  gore. 

And  we,  with  weak   and  gasping  breath, 
With  hearts  that  bled  for  comrades  slain, 

Reeled,  shuddering,  from  the  hill  of  death, 
And   laid   us  down   to  sleep  again, 
The  soldier's  sleep  of  pain. 

But  every  step  upon  the  ground, 
.  And  every  whisper  stealing  near, 
Smote  us  anew  with  crashing  sound, 
As  if  the  cannons  rent  the  ear, 

So  loud  the  dead  might  hear. 

The  stars  their  darkest  pathways  trod, 
When  we  once  more,  with  staggering  feet, 

Low  whispering  to  ourselves  and  God, 
"  Only  the  sleep  of  death  is  sweet !  " 
Began  our  long  retreat. 


RICHMOND. 

JULY,  1862. 

RICHMOND,  the  summer  that  shines 

on  thy  towers 

Will   tremble   and   shudder   and   turn 
from  her  flowers, 
Will  creep  over  fields  where  our  strong  armies 


And  die  at   the   sight   of  the   blood   thou  hast 

caused. 

Thou  city  of  slaves, 
For  thee  and   thy  sins   earth   is   teeming  with 

graves. 

For  thee  and  thy  dark  sins,  O  Richmond,  be- 
ware, 

Lest  the  dread  wings  of  Pestilence  move  in  the 
air; 

Lest   Famine   thy  strength   and   thy  loveliness 
blight ; 

Lest  the  arm  of  Jehovah  be  lifted  to  smite : 
For  never  before 

Such  fair  vines  of  promise  such  bitter  fruit  bore  ! 


RICHMOND.  79 

Death,  death   on   the   plains,  in   the   vales,  by 

the  wave ; 

Death,  ghastly  and  stiff  without  coffin  or  grave  ; 
Death    clutching    the    bayonet  —  grasping    the 

gun  — 
And  the  heat  of  God's  anger  ablaze  in  the  sun ! 

O  Richmond,  beware ! 
They  die  who  the  wrath  of  Omnipotence  dare. 

But  the  white  dove   of  mercy  above  thee  still 

flies, 
And  the  rain  of  fire  dashes  not  down  the  veiled 

skies : 
'Tis  the   lull,  the  long   pause   ere  the  vial  is 

poured, 
And  the  plagues  are   let   loose   that   run   after 

the  sword. 

Midway  the  bolt  stays : 
Love  waits  for  repentance,  and  Justice  delays. 

Sink  down  in  the   dust ;    own   thy  sins   of  the 

past; 

Let  the  bondman  go  free  in  thy  borders  at  last ; 
While  the  hill-sides  resound  with  thy  suppliant 

cry, 
Peradventure  the  Lord  God  will  hear  and  reply: 

If  his  grace  thou  deride 
His  arm  will  be  lifted  —  then  woe  to  thy  pride  ! 


80  RICHMOND. 

For  a  voice  from  the  "  temple  of  Heaven  "  will 
call,  — 

'  It  is  done!   it   is   done!"  and  the  judgment 
will  fall; 

And  "  voices  and  thunders "  around  thee  will 
blend, 

The  fire  will  consume  and  the  earthquake  will 
rend: 

In  'the  hurricane's  path  — 

Thou  shall  drink  of  the  "wine  of  the   fierce- 
ness of  wrath ! " 

And  lo!  at  thy  gates  there  will   fall  a  "great 

hail;" 

Thy  men  will  blaspheme  and  thy  women  bewail ; 
For  the  plague  thereof  great  and  exceeding  will 

be: 
But  thy  bondmen,  O  Richmond,  shall  rise  and 

go  free ; 

And  voices  will  cry, — 
"  Th     *  beast,   scarlet-colored,'  behold   it  must 

die ! " 


THE   SOLDIER'S   BRIDE. 

last  the  dread  cloud   that  hung  over 

the  gorges 

Has  sailed  to  the  west  and  extinguished 
the  sun  ; 

At  last,  mid  the  mountains,  war's  thunderbolt- 
forges 

Have  ceased  their  loud  labor ;  all  fighting  is 
done. 

"  My  dearest,  shrink  not !  "  murmured  he,  when 

we  parted, 
"  But  pray  that   Jehovah  our   freemen   may 

.     shield ; 

And  if  I  should  perish,  be  not  heavy-hearted." 
In  haste,  then,  he  kissed  me  and  sped  to  the 
field. 

So  I  have  been  calm,  never  weeping  nor  sigh- 
ing* 

While,  yonder,  my  love  rode  in  martial  array ; 
The  battle-tide  breasting,  or  wounded,  or  dying ; 
With  cheers  sweeping  on,  or  borne  down  in 
the  fray. 


82  THE  SOLDIER'S  BRIDE. 

Till   noontide   those   grand,  rhythmic   thunders 

resounding, 

Aroused  into  courage  my  patriot-zeal : 
But  then  my  quick  pulse  ceased   at   once  from 

its  bounding  ; 

Pain  entered  my  breast  like  the  piercing  of 
steel. 

This  is  not  the  time  for  weak  wailing  and  sob- 
bing ; 
My  heart  must  be    patient   though    riven    in 

twain. 
This    tent  —  how    its    quietness   sets   my    veins 

throbbing  ! 

This  ghastly  white   moon  —  how   it  maddens 
my  brain  ! 

"  Go  not,"  so  they  said,  "  lest  his  courage  should 

falter ; 

Stay  under  the  fig-tree  and  nourish  the  vine  ; 
His  hearthstone    keep   bright,  feed   the    fire  on 

home's  altar  "  — 

But  what  with  ?  my  heart^  love,  torn  bleeding 
from  thine  ? 

Ah  well !  let  them  chide  !  I  have  freely  resigned 

thee  ; 
Believing  thee  worthy  those  fathers  of  ours. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  BRIDE.  83 

But  how  could  I  suffer  Death's  herald  to  find 

thee, 

Alone,     unconsoled,    and     I  —  tending    my 
flowers ! 

How  hushed  is  the  camp-ground  !  the  moonlight 

is  waxing 

More  cruelly  white  and  more  deathly  serene ; 
From  far  comes  the  cry  of  the  whip-poor-will, 

taxing 
The  sense  with  a  dulcitude,  fearfully  keen. 

In  the  shadow  anear  me  the  sentinel  paces; 
The    lightning-rent   oak   looms,    in   silence, 

above ; 

Wherever  I  turn  gleam  prophetic,  wan  faces ; 
That  Banshee  —  or  bird  —  chants  the  death- 
song  of  love. 

Hist !  the  guard,  at  my  right,  stands  to  challenge 

the  straying 

That  hasten  with  tidings  concerning  the  strife ; 
They  whisper !  God !  what  are  they  saying  ? 
"Since  noon  he  is  missing  —  small  chance  of 
his  life. 

"  They  saw  him,  when  on  to  the  charge  he  was 

rushing : 
With  valor  superb  he  led  forward  his  men ; 


84  THE  SOLDIER'S  BRIDE. 

The  sods  where   they  swept   red   as   roses   are 

blushing  — 

Their   dead,  all   unburied,  are   strewing   the 
glen." 

Their  dead  —  but  not  mine  !  for  the  death-blow, 

recoiling, 
Had  spared  not  my  life  had  my  lover  been 

killed  : 

My  spirit,  with  his,  waits  the  final  despoiling  — 
The  cup,   being   broken,  —  is   not   the   wine 
spilled  ? 

He   lives  !   on   the  cold  clod   he  waits   my  ap- 

pearing, 

Ere  love's  golden  glory  can  suffer  eclipse  ; 
He   yearns   for   my   smile,   death's    last   agony 

cheering  ; 

The  clasp  of  mv  hand,  and  the  touch  of  my 
lips. 

Lead  thou  the  way,  friend,  for  the  sake  of  the 

dying. 
Now  blest  be  the  moon  for  its  shining  to- 

night I 
Low  down  in  the  glen  where  my  darling  is 


How  long   ere   I   found   him,  except  for   its 
light! 


THE  SOLDIER'S  BRIDE.  85 

Move   faster !   what !    think   you   I   shudder   or 

tremble  ? 

Not  so !  by  the  strength  of  my  love  I  am  led. 
Press  on  —  through  the  plains  where  the  living 

assemble ; 

Press  on  —  through  the  passes  where  slumber 
the  dead. 

And  now,  beyond  all,  where  the  sods  blush  the 

brightest, 

(His  valor  exceeding  all  valor,  to  prove,) 
Where  moonlight's  white  tissue  is  blanched  to 

its  whitest, 
Lo,  tranquilly  slumbering,  here  is  my  love ! 

Awaken !  O  waken !  at  last  I  have  found  thee, 
Dear,  never  again  from  thee,  never  to  part ! 

Awaken !  O  waken !  my  arms  are  around  thee, 
My  cheek  on  thy  cheek,  and  my  heart  on 
thy  heart. 

Deep  peace  on   thy  brow,  like  God's   blessing, 

reposes ; 
With  joy  thy  pulse  fails,  weakly  striving  to 

beat ; 
Oh,   the    patriots'    death-couch    is    softer    than 

roses ! 

'T  is  certain  thy  dreams  have  been  heavenly 
sweet. 


86  THE   SOLDIER'S  BRIDE. 

Yet     waken ;     my     presence     is     better     than 

dreaming: 

The  sweetest  completion  of  rapture  it  brings ; 
And  ah,  with  new  glory  thy  pale  brow  is  gleam- 
ing— 

Thy   glad   spirit   hears   me,  just    poising   its 
wings ! 

Thine  eye,  with  its  lustre  of  love,  is  upon  me  — 
Oh,  never  the  sun  with  such  affluence  shone  ! 

From  the  clasp  of  Death's  merciless  arms  I  have 

won  thee : 
I  know  thee  forever  —  forever  mine  own. 

For  grief  struck  me  cold  ere  thy  fate  had  been 

told  me ; 
My  soul  caught   the  news,  and   made   ready 

for  flight; 

Now  tenderly  kiss  me,  love,  sweetly  infold  me : 
Heaven  dawns  with  to-morrow  —  Good-night 
and  good-night  I 


THE    NIGHT-BATTLE   UNDER    LOOK- 
OUT MOUNTAIN. 

OCTOBER  28,  29,  1863. 

;E  silent,   lute,  long   used  at  need,  what 

time  the  heart  seemed  breaking ; 
And  thou,  my  slumbering  sylvan  reed, 
forego  thy  wild  awaking. 
Such  deeds  have  filled  Columbian  crypts,  that, 

meet  applause  to  grant  them, 
We  want  the  trumpet  at  the  lips  and  Gabriel's 
voice  to  chant  them. 

And  yet  so  high  through  songful  speech  God's 

diapason  rises, 
Not  even    Gabriel's   voice   the   reach   of  every 

stave  comprises  ; 
And   we,  who   swell   the   lowest   key,  —  albeit 

none  revere  us,  — 
Shall  soar  and  sing  till    land   and   sea,  aye,  all 

their  dead  shall  hear  us ! 

Then  wake  from  slumber,  lute  and  reed !  let  no 
bravuras  falter: 


88    THE  BATTLE   OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN. 

Oh,  not  to  drown  your  moans  who  bleed,  self- 
cast  on  Freedom's  altar  ! 

But  when  the  shock  and  roar  of  War  roll  out- 
ward and  diminish, 

'T  is  meet  that  sylvan  notes  afar  the  lessening 
echoes  finish. 


When  Hooker  led  his  valiant  men  o'er  rude 
and  devious  courses, 

And  northward  turning,  in  the  glen,  encamped 
their  weary  forces, 

The  wary  Rebel  host,  thereby,  in  upland  haunts 
abiding, 

All  wolfishly  did  prowl  and  pry,  from  patriot- 
vengeance  hiding. 

No  time  did  faithful  soldiers  waste,  no  chance 
they  craved  to  dally, 

But  pitched  the  tent  with  cheery  haste  and 
fortified  the  valley  ; 

Until  the  bleeding  sun  at  eve  sunk  like  a  war- 
rior wounded, 

His  mountain-lair  dared  Longstreet  leave  ?  — 
no  answering  cannon  sounded. 

But  midnight  poised  her  silver  scale,  with  moon 
and  planet  freighted, 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN.     89 

And  suddenly  the  rising  gale  another  tale  related : 
Swift  battle- winds  smote  all  the  pines ;  through 

branch  and  root  they  tingled, 
And  down  the  length  of  martial   lines  a   thou- 
sand volleys  mingled. 

On  came  the  traitors  in  their  might ;  their  mus- 
kets crashed  before  us; 

Their  batteries  smoked  along  the  height,  their 
shells  did  riot  o'er  us : 

To  break  our  lines  and  beat  us  back,  or  slaugh- 
ter where  they  found  us,  — 

Oh,  all  the  wolves  were  on  our  track  !  we  heard 
them  howl  around  us. 

Down  into  Geary's  camp  they  pressed,  and  three 

to  one  assailed  him  ; 
Uprose  his  veterans   from  their  rest,  and  not  a 

warrior  failed  him  ; 
But  one  to  three  they  stood,    to  dare  and   face 

the  direst  sequel : 
Nay  !  three  to  three  —  since  Freedom  there  and 

God  made  numbers  equal ! 

Now  Hooker  at  the  fearful   noise  of  onset  and 

resistance, 
Cried   "  Forward,    double-quick,  my  boys,  dash 

on  to  their  assistance  !  " 


90    THE  BATTLE  OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN. 

And  into  line  fell  Howard's  corps;  no  storm- 
lashed  waves  of  ocean 

E'er  leaped  from  shoal  to  beach  with  more  pre- 
cipitance of  motion. 

The  regal  hills   had   drawn   aside   their  purple 

shades  intrusive  ; 
The   dew-sown  vales   lay   glorified   with   starry 

gleams  illusive  ; 
The  air  was  opulent  with  light,  dissolving  and 

refining  — 
Was  ever  road  to  fame  so  bright  ?  to  Death  so 

fair  and  shining  ? 

Their  startled  pulses  rush  like  rills  when  rains 

have  made  them  greater  ! 
They  surge,  they  pour  between  the  hills,  like 

lava  from  the  crater. 
Now    they    whose    whip's    chivalric    lash    made 

woman's  shrieks  implore   them, 
Shall  learn  how  freemen's  weapons   flash  when 

tyrants  stand  before  them. 

Huzza !   they   sweep    through   rocky   glades   in 

serried  order  steady ! 
Their  strong   hands   grasp   their  hilled   blades, 

their  hearts  are  Blithe  and  ready: 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN.    91 

Ah !    all    at    once   throughout    their   flank    the 

powers  of  Hades  enter ; 
And  One  of  awful  name   and   rank,  unseen,  is 

in  their  centre  ! 

Beneath  yon  mountain  foliage  dark,  strange  odors 
cling  and  stifle, 

And  countless  jets  of  scarlet  mark  the  pits  for 
man  and  rifle ; 

While  such  a  rushing,  fateful  breath  has  blown 
through  wood  and  hollow, 

That  but  the  fleet,  frore  wings  of  Death  in  track- 
less speed  can  follow. 

"  Go,  take  the  ridge,"  our  generals  cry,  "  and 
safer  passage  warrant !  " 

Our  columns  rive  in  prompt  reply  like  inter- 
cepted torrent ; 

Those  frontward,  Victory's  wreath  to  snatch 
from  brows  of  Freedom's  haters  ; 

These  upward,  loyal  blades  to  match  with  blades 
of  lurking  traitors. 

And  nimbly  to  the  charge  they  leap,  with  gal- 
lant Smith  to  lead  them  ; 

The  pathless  ridge  is  dark  and  steep  —  its  tan- 
gled boughs  impede  them. 


92   THE  BATTLE   OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN. 

The  wind,  half  conscious,  through  the  pines  some 

wailful  strain  is  humming  — 
Where   lurks  the    foe  ?   his   ambushed    lines   in 

silence  wait  their  coming. 

^V 

But  now,  the  keen-edged  lighting  darts  athwart 

confronting  trenches  ; 

But  now,  resounding  thunder  starts,  the  brood- 
ing cloud  it  wrenches  ; 

Hate  bursts  in  yells  (so  over-bold,  they  hint  of 
Terror  stronger : ) 

As  if  hell's  gates  had  failed  to  hold  its  grappling 
demons  longer. 

Thousands,  intrenched,  are  on  the  height,  our 
clambering  hundreds  meeting, 

With  bolt  on  bolt  to  crush  and  blight  (the  South- 
ron's brother-greeting :  ) 

Such  harvests  of  our  men  they  reap,  dismay  — 
defeat  are  wrought  them  ! 

Nay  !  —  but  they  rally  !  up  they  sweep  as  if  a 
whirlwind  caught  them  ! 

Up,  reckless  of  the  rifle's   scope,  from   base  to 

brow  they  speed   them  : 
Nor  clinging  brambles   of  the   slope,   nor  fallen 

trunks  impede   thejn ; 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN.  93 

Nor  brutal  Hatred's  tig'rish  yell,  nor  clouds  that 

choke  and  blind  them  ; 
Nor   breastworks   lined   with    fires   of  hell,    nor 

fiends  that  crouch  behind  them. 

And  lo  you !  where  our  little  band  the  parapet 
encumbers, 

Assaulting  madly  hand  to  hand  the  foe's  quad- 
rupled numbers ! 

With  whirring  balls  and  cleaving  blows,  our 
glorious  soldiers  wound  them  ; 

In  headlong,  driving  strife  they  close  ;  they  har- 
ass, they  astound  them. 

Never   such   wild   hurras  before    from    distance 

pealed  to  distance ! 
From  rifle-pits  the  lurkers  pour  in  terrified  de- 

sistance. 
Down  the  rough  steep  they  leap,  they  creep,  as 

murderers  dumb  they  hide  them, 
And  like  avenging  spirits  sweep  our  men  behind 

—  beside  them. 

The  ridge  is  ours!  but   battle-gales   are   loudly 

hurtling  yonder: 
Dash  on,  brave  victors,  down  the  dales !  stay  not 

to  rest  or  ponder ! 


04     THE  BATTLE   OP  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN. 

Ten  thousand  Rebels,  left  and  right,  there  closer, 
closer  plant  them  ; 

But  Geary's  ranks  are  grand  in  fight,  and  How- 
ard's—  who  shall  daunt  them? 

Press  on,  press  on,  rebellious  horde  !  meet  death 

and  dark  disasters  ! 
The  drops  that  stain  a   Northman's  sword   free 

slaves  from  scourging  masters. 
Press  on,  press  on  !  bring  all  your  guns  —  load 

well  and  aim  discreetly  : 
Yet  know  One  sides  with  Freedom's  sons  whose 

judgments  follow  fleetly. 

Line   crowding    line,    rank    urging    rank,    steel 

pressed  to  hearts  unshielded  : 
An    instant's    hush    from    flank    to    flank — and 

God  his  bolt  has  wielded  ! 
A  subtle  thrill,  a  blanching  dread  —  skies  bowed, 

earth  quaking  under  — 
And  all  the  traitorous  files  are  shred,  are  rent, 

are  hewn  asunder  ! 

Ah,  Longstreet  left  his  lair  at  night,  no  servile 

cohorts  lacking  ; 
But  by  their  gore  his  backward  flight  the  scout, 

at  morn,  was  tracking. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LOOKOUT  MOUNTAIN.  95 

While  Northern  hands  were  digging  graves   to 

hide  his  fallen  numbers, 
Their  widows  weep  —  though  not  their  slaves : 

God  grant  them  peaceful  slumbers! 


Be  silent,  echoing  sylvan  reed  !  for  Death's  wild 

bell  is  knelling, 
And  hearts  of  mourners  break  and  bleed  in  many 

a  loyal  dwelling : 
But  when  War's  dread  apocalypse   has   hushed 

its  sevenfold  thunder, 
Such   light   will    flood    Columbia's    crypts    that 

Gabriel's  self  must  wonder. 


THE   YEAR  OF   EMANCIPATION. 

JAM;  AII  Y  1,  1864. 

!  AW   ye,  when  Azrael's  sword   of  might 

had  touched  the  Old  Year's  heart, 
Heaven's  guarded  gates  at  noon  of  night 

in  silent  glory  part  ? 
Heard  ye  the  angel's  challenge  ring  from  starry 

heights  sublime  ? 

*'  What  ho !  thy  finished  records  bring,  thou 
who  art  done  with  Time ! " 

Then  rose  the  sovereign  from  his  bier,  pale  as 
the  glaciers  are 

That  on  their  mountain-levels  hear  the  voice  of 
God  afar : 

With  brow  serene  and  eye  that  braved  the  sky's 
supernal  light, 

His  cloud- dividing  wings  he  waved,  in  far,  ma- 
jestic flight. 

"  Hast  thou  no  joyful  news,  O   Year  ?  "    cried 

that  celestial  voice  : 
•*  No  word,  that  rolled  from  sphere  to   sphere, 

shall  bid  the  heavens  rejoice  ? 


THE   YEAR  OF  EMANCIPATION.         97 

No  lance  has  bleeding    Freedom  hurled  —  her 

life-long  war  to  close? 
Has  Power  yet   leave  to  walk  the  world   and 

rend  each  wayside  rose  ?  " 

"  I  stood  on  proud  Columbia's  strand  —  where 

Night  her  stars  had  left  — 
And  near  and  far  I  saw  the  land  incarnadined 

and  cleft : 
There  ghoulish  War's  insatiate  fire  his  feast  of 

horror  signed, 
And  swept  its   forked   flames   ever   higher  the 

heavenward  gaze  to  blind. 

"  The   nation's   brimmed    communion-cup    had 

spilled  its  holy  wine  ; 
The  slave  his  sad  eyes  lifted  up,  still  gyved  at 

.     Belial's  shrine ; 
Pale  under  Treason's  upas-shade,  Truth,  worn 

and  fainting,  lay; 
And  Europe  paused,  with  half-drawn  blade,  as 

one  who  pants  to  slay. 

"  I  saw,  and  thrilled  the  Ruler's  heart  —  I 
nerved  the  Ruler's  hand; 

And  lo!  he  rent  the  gyves  apart,  on  fair  Co- 
lumbia's strand ! 

7 


98        THE   YEAR  OF  EMANCIPATION. 

4  HENCEFORTH,   FOREVER   BE   YE   FREE  ! '    (but 

GOD  had  spoken  first,) 
And  from  the  gulf  to   either  sea,  so   died   the 

thing  accursed ! 

"  New   vigor   shot    through   Freedom's   veins  : 

revived  she  trod  the  world ; 
Full  far  o'er  Southern  battle-plains  her  shining 

lance  she  hurled: 
Now  shrinks  the  deadly  upas-shade  —  its   dews 

of  poison  cease  ; 
And    Europe   sheathes    her   thirsty   blade   and 

smiles  a  treacherous  peace  ! 

"  Now  quails  Rebellion's  vaunted  host :  —  with 

sudden  terror  pressed, 
From  sea  and  gulf  and  river-coast  they  flee  and 

find  no  rest: 
What  god  shall   bid  them   rally  back,  Truth's 

awful  front  to  dare  ? 
For  Belial's  shrines  their  victims  lack ;  he  sleeps, 

nor  answers   prayer." 

"  Aye,  wide  ye  pearl-wrought  shafts  be  riven  !  " 

sang  that  seraphic  voice  ; 
"  For  never   news   more  worthy  Heaven  made 

listening  spheres  rejoice. 


THE   YEAR   OF  EMANCIPATION.        99 

Let  hallelujahs  roll  afar  !  —  when  God  the  work 

has  done, 
And  smiled  thereon,  how  fair  a  star  shall  bloom 

beside  the  sun  !  " 


Saw  ye,  when  surged  along  the  land  the  orient 

flood  of  day, 
The  New  Year  on  Atlantic's  strand  his  silvery 

wings  delay? 
Some  effluent  song  harp-sweet   and   clear  stole 

down  the  depth  profound, 
"  Lo !  God  hath  sent  thee,  beauteous  Year  !  go, 

heal  Columbia's  wound  !  " 


APRIL   DAYS. 


through  mist  and  dashing  rain, 
April  days,  April  days  ; 
'Break  the  last  light  crystal  chain, 
Teach  the  snowbird  livelier  lays, 
Deck  with  verdure  wood  and  plain, 
April  days,  April  days. 

Years  are  long  —  the  years  are  three, 

April  days,  April  days, 
Since  my  love  went  forth  from  me  ; 

Craving  neither  gold  nor  praise, 
But  free  scope  for  valor  free, 

April  days,  April  days. 

Sun-bright  flags  for  marshaled  men, 

April  days,  April  days, 
Flung  ye  out  o'er  hill  and  glen  ; 

All  your  winds  sang  battle-lays  ; 
Southward  soared  your  eagles  then, 
April  days,  April  days. 


APRIL  DAYS.  101 

Flaunt  your  sun-bright  flags  once  more, 

April  days,  April  days; 
For  the  ship  is  near  the  shore, 

And  he  comes  whom  all  must  praise  : 
Northward  doth  my  eagle  soar, 

April  days,  April  days. 

Gayly  shine,  oh,  brightly  shine, 
April  days,  April  days ! 
Wounded  in  the  vanward  line, 

Victor  of  a  hundred  frays, 
Welcome  home  this  love  of  mine, 
April  days,  April  days  I 


SHINE,  SUN  OF  THE   SUMMER. 

JUNE,  1864. 

jHINE,  sun  of  the  summer ;  bloom,  roses 

of  June ! 
Bring  joy  to  the  senses  and  health   to 

the  brain: 
Our  ears  ache  with  cries   from  each   Southem 

lagoon, 

Our  hearts  ache  with  news  from  the  fields  of 
the  slain  — 

Bring  us  balm  for  the  pain. 

Shine,  sun  of  the  summer ;   blow,  wind  of  the 

west, 
And  hurl   these   black  battle-clouds  back  to 

the  wave, 
Where,  with   seals  of  destruction   on   forehead 

and  breast, 

(The  scourge  of  our  nation,  the  shame  of  the 
brave,) 

Charleston  cowers  by  her  grave. 


SHINE,   SUN  OF  THE  SUMMER.       103 

Shine,  sun  of  the  summer ;  smite,  sword  of  the 

free  ! 
Smite  well,  till  the  coiled  serpent,  shuddering, 

dies  ; 
Till  war  heaves   no    more   the  deep   breast  of 

the  sea, 

And  the   white  rose   of  peace  o'er  our  land 
shall  arise, 

Wooing  dew  from  the  skies. 

Shine,  sun  of  the  summer ;  on,  flag  of  our  trust, 
Wherever   the   fell   flames    of  Treason   have 

crossed  ! 

Till  earth  hides  with  grass  faces  falling  to  dust, 
And  we  —  weep  our  lives  out  in  woe  for  the 
cost, 

As  we  number  our  lost. 

Shine,  sun  of  the  summer ;  bloom,  roses  of  June  ; 
Blow,  soft  wind,  and  heal  the  hot  fevers  of 

hate; 

Rise,  rivers,  and  circle  each  Southern  lagoon, 
Till  lilies  are  throned  on  your  waters,  in  state, 
Where  blood  ran,  of  late. 

Shine,  sun  of  the  summer ;  sink,  dews  of  the  air ! 
Our  wounded   hearts    ache   for  the   hour  of 
repose  : 


104       SHINE,  SUN  OF   THE   SUMMER. 

But  the  God   of  the  nation   has  answered  our 

prayer, 

And  the  serpent   lies   dying,  just  under   the 
rose  — 

This  is  balm  for  our  woes. 


IN  "  FOREST  LAWN." 

JONES,  2D  N.    Y.  M.   R.,   DIED   OCTOBER    14,   1864,   AGED 
18    YEARS. 


my  brother  ! 
Thou,  of  old  so  merry-hearted, 

Wont  our  saddest  hours  to  cheer  — 
Thine  abundant  life  departed  — 
Thou  must  slumber  here. 

Ah  my  brother, 
From  the  grave  where  first  they  bore  thee, 

When  thy  youthful  lips  were  dumb, 
With  the  bugles  grieving  o'er  thee 
And  the  burial  drum  ;  — 

Ah  my  brother, 
Thence  at  last  with  sobs  we  bring  thee, 

All  thy  soldier-work  is  done  : 
Here  the  long  farewell  we  sing  thee  — 

Thou  hast  fought  —  and  won  I 

Ah  my  brother ! 
At  thy  games,  the  loud  reveille" 


106  IN  "FOREST  LAWN." 

Startling,  roused  thy  spirit  proud. 
Thine  no  holiday  regalia: 

Battle-garb  —  and  shroud. 

Ah  my  brother, 
Vain  are  all  our  broken  phrases ; 

Down  the  cliffs  of  farthest  time, 
Shall  for  such  roll  hymns  of  praises, 

Surge-like  and  sublime  ! 

Ah  my  brother, 
Thou,  the  loving  boy  and  loyal, 

From  thy  laughing  life  of  late, 
Hast  arisen,  more  than  royal, 

Throned  in   grander  state. 

Ah  my  brother, 
Through  the  sable  years  before  us, 

Heir  of  Heaven,  thy  soul  of  light 
Shall,  like  Hesper  burning  o'er  us, 

Kindle  all  our   night. 

Ah  my  brother  — 
But  alas !  alas !  to  lose  thee  I 

Ne'er  to  wake  thee  out  of  sleep ! 
Theme  for  praise  let  others  choose  thee 
We  must  weep  —  must  weep ! 


THE  YEAR  OF  VICTORIES. 

JANUAKT  1,  1865. 

SALE-BROWED    and   breathless,   flung 
in  haste  on  Night's  black  shallop,  lies 
the  Year : 
And  rushing  sails  -across  the  waste  of  Death's 

deep  sullen  tides  we  hear ; 
*   Oh,  yet  our  mournful  plea  we  urge  —  "  Return  ! 

return !  for  thou  wert  brave ; 
And  while  we  trod  War's  roaring  surge,  wert 
swift  to  reach  and  strong  to  save ! " 

Far,  far  he  floats  whose  glories  grew  more 
bright  with  every  hour  that  passed,  — 

Who  loaded  all  the  winds  that  blew  with  his 
triumphal  bugle-blast ; 

But  while  his  dirge  in  solemn  flow  goes  wail- 
ing through  our  troubled  reeds, 

Break  from  the  breathings  of  its  woe  and  voice 
the  grandeur  of  his  deeds. 


108  THE   YEAR   OF  VICTORIES. 

He   rent  resisting  traitor-hosts,  and  filled   with 

righteous  spoil  our  hands  ; 
He  smote  their  cannon-guarded  coasts  ;  he  rode 

victorious  through  their  lands  ; 
Our    flag  he    flung   from    tower  and  mast  o'er 

many  a  conquered  fort  and  mere  ; 
Beneath  the  yawning  seas  he  cast  full  many  a 

prowling  privateer. 

He  touched  the  bondman,  burden-bowed,   long 

taught  the  gory  lash  to  dread  — 
Straight   rose  a  SOLDIER,  free   and   proud  —  oh 

then  it  was   the   master  bled ! 
He  swept   the   harp  of  freemen's  souls,  till  all 

its  rising  murmurings 
Rolled  forth  in  thunder  from  the  polls,  and  shook 

the  very  thrones  of  kings  ! 

From    torrid    plains    to     northern     snows     his 

rhythmic  praise  of  heroes  rang, 
Till  swift,  impetuous  boyhood  rose,  and  rushed 

to  dare  the  deeds  he  sang ; 
And  ah,  in  lines  of  vivid   light   that  gild   our 

grand  Columbian  lore, 
What  deathless  names  we  saw  him  write  beside 

the  deathless  names  of  yore ! 

Farewell,  farewell,  O  passing  Year  !  thy  wingdd 
bark  shall  stay  its  flight 


THE   YEAR   OF   VICTORIES.  109 

Beside   that   shore  whose   crystal   pier  with  all 

the  angelhood  is  bright; 
There  .they  whose   peace   no   tears   may  move, 

whose  smiles  no  more  our  eyes  behold, 
To  hear  thy  story  of  our  love   lean   silent   on 

their  harps  of  gold. 

Farewell,  farewell !  o'er  tidal  seas  the  shim- 
mering light  begins  to  creep, 

And  fleetly,  in  the  laughing  breeze  yon  white- 
sailed  shallop  rides  the  deep ; 

Lo  !  godlike  on  the  silver  prow  he  stands,  the 
New  Year  —  pure  of  wrong  : 

Fair  shines  the  olive  on  his  brow;  his  smiling 
lips  o'erflow  with  song. 

O  loyal  souls,  in  reverence  kneel  and  hail  the 

savior  of  the  land  ! 
Swift  rolls  the  tide  —  the  cleaving  keel  is  swept 

in  music  up  the  strand. 
Fling  from  your  hearts  their  loads  of  fear ;  for 

by  this  beauteous  dawn  we.  know, 
Around  the  footsteps  of  the  Year,  full  soon  the 

crescive  day  will  flow. 

Then  shall  fair   Freedom's   temple   rise  —  from 

sea  to  sea   our  land  invest ! 
Its    flashing    dome    shall    climb    the   skies,   and 

there  the  rolling  stars  arrest; 


110  THE   YEAR   OF  VICTORIES. 

'Neath  its  broad  door  shall  nations  throng,  and 
low  their  golden  tributes  pour ; 

There  God's  Republic,  saved  and  strong,  shall 
wisely  rule  for  evermore. 


A  REBEL  FLAG  OF  TRUCE. 

ET  us  bury  our  dead: 
Since  we  may  not  of  vantage 

or  victory  prate; 
And  our  army,  so  grand  in  the  onslaught  of  late, 
All  crippled  has  shrunk  to  its  trenches  instead,  — 
For  the  carnage  was  great: 
Let  us  bury  our  dead. 

"Let  us  bury  our  dead. 
Oh,  we  thought  to  surprise  you,  as,  panting  and 

flushed, 
PVom   our   works   to   assault  you   we  valiantly 

rushed : 

But  you  fought  like  the  gods  —  till  we  faltered 
and  fled, 

And  the  earth,  how  it  blushed! 
Let  us  bury  our  dead." 

So  we  bury  our  dead  — 

From  the  field ;  from  the  range  and  the  crash 
of  the  gun ; 


112          A   REBEL  FLAG  OF  TRUCE. 

From  the  kisses  of  love ;  from  the  face  of  the 

sun ! 

Oh,  the  silence   they  keep  while  we   dig   their 
last  bed  I 

Lay  them  in,  one  by  one: 
So  we  bury  our  dead. 

Fast  we  bury  our  dead: 

All  too  scanty  the  time,  let  us  work  as  we  may, 
For  the  foe  burns  for  strife  and  our  ranks  are 

at  bay: 

O'er  the   graves  we   are   digging  what   legions 
will  tread  — 

Swift,  and  eager  to  slay, 
Though  we  bury  our  dead. 

See,  we  bury  our  dead ! 
Oh  they  fought  as  the  young  and  the  dauntless 

will  fight, 

Who  fancy  their  war  is  a  war  for  the  right ! 
Right   or  wrong,  it   was   precious  —  this   blood 
they  have  shed: 

Surely  God  will  requite, 
And  we  bury  our  dead. 

Yes,  we  bury  our  dead. 

If  they  erred  as   they  fought,  will  He  charge 
them  with  blame, 


A   REBEL  FLAG  OF  TRUCE.          113 

When  their  hearts  beat  aright,  and  the  truth  was 
their  aim  ? 

Nay,  never  in  vain  has  such  offering  bled  — 
North  or  South,  't  is  the  same  — 
Fast  we  bury  our  dead. 

Thus  we  bury  our  dead. 
Oh,  ye  men   of  the   North,  with  your  banner 

that  waves 
Far  and  wide  o'er  our  Southland,  made  rugged 

with  graves, 

Are  ye  verily  right,  that  so  well  ye  have  sped  ? 
Were  we  wronging  our  slaves? 
Well  —  we  bury  our  dead ! 

Ah,  we  bury  our  dead ! 
And  granting  you  all  you  have  claimed  on  the 

whole  — 
Are  we  spoiled  of  our   birthright   and  stricken 

in  soul, 

To    be   spurned    at    Heaven's   court   when   its 
records  are  read? 

Nay,  expound  not  the  scroll 
Till  we  bury  our  dead ! 

Haste  and  bury  our  dead ! 
No  time  for  revolving  of  right  and  of  wrong; 


114          A   REBEL  FLAG  OF  TRUCE. 

We  must  venture  our  souls  with  the  rest  of  the 

throng ; 

And  our  God  must  be  Judge,  as  he  sits  over- 
head, 

Of  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
While  we  bury  our  dead. 

Now  peace  to  our  dead : 
Fair  grow  the  sweet  blossoms  of  spring  where 

they  lie: 
Hark!    the     musketry    roars,    and    the     rifles 

reply ; 

Oh  the  fight  will  be  close  and  the  carnage  be 
dread  — 

To  the  ranks  let  us  hie, 
We  have  buried  our  dead. 


FORT  SUMTER. 

jH,  the  flag  is  afloat  over  Sumter  at  last,  — 

Hurra! 

From  his  refuge  the  serpent  of  Treason 
is  cast  — 
Hurra ! 
Blow  strong,    O   ye  breezes,  blow   steady  and 

bold, 
Till  we   see   our   dear  flag,  without  wrinkle  or 

fold, 

Fly  abroad  o'er  the  heights  of  the  Rebel  strong- 
hold. 

Hurra  !   hurra  !  and  hurra  I 
It  shall  float  till  the  last  bolt  of  vengeance  has 
rolled, 

And  then  —  float  forever,  hurra ! 

'T  is  the  fort  where  our  Anderson  toiled  at  the 
guns,  — 

Hurra ! 

Where   the    South  learned  to    blush    for    her 
traitorous  sons, — 
Hurra! 


116  FORT  SUMTER. 

The  sky  was  all  crimson  with  flames  of  affray, 
And  crimson  beneath  were  the  waves  of  the  bay, 
Ere  the  banner  came  down  that  is  floating  to- 
day, 

Hurra  !  hurra !  and  hurra  ! 
It  shall   float   till   these   bomb-torn   embrasures 
decay, 

And  still  float  forever,  hurra ! 

Oh,  we   made   the  air   mad  with   the   rushing 
of  balls,  — 

Hurra! 

With  the  shrieking  of  shells  and  the   crashing 
of  walls,  — 

Hurra ! 
Till  its   thunders  were   dumb  and   its   cannons 

o'erthrown, 
And  the  foe  fled  at  last  from  the  ramparts  of 

stone  ; 

It  was  this  way  our  flag  was  restored  to  its 
own, 

Hurra !  hurra  !  and  hurra ! 
It  shall   float  till  the   last  king  is  dead   on  his 
throne, 

And  still  float  forever,  hurra ! 

Then  resound,  ye  glad  guns,  over  billow  and 
strand,  — 
Hurra  I 


FORT  SUMTER.  117 

Let  the  noise  of  rejoicing  be  loud  in  the  land,  — 

Hurra! 

For  Washington's  spirit  rejoices  on  high 
O'er  Sumter  the  flag  of  his  love  to  descry  ; 
It  shall  float  till  the  bed  of  the   ocean  is  dry, 

Hurra  I  hurra  !  and  hurra  ! 
It  shall  float  till  the  last  trumpet  sounds  in  the 
sky, 

And  then  —  float  in  glory !  hurra  ! 


THE    SOUTH    WIND. 

|H,  the  light  south  wind! 

It   brought   us   the    odor  of 

orange  bowers, 
Of  citron-trees,  and  of  all  rare  flowers, 
As  we  sat  by  our  doors  in  summery  hours; 
Did  the  light  south  wind. 

Oh,  the  sweet  south  wind ! 

It  brought  us  the   oriole's  love-breathing  note  ; 

The  paroquet's  praise  of  his  pretty  green  coat ; 

The  carols   that  gush  from  the  mocking-bird's 

throat; 

Did  the  sweet  south  wind. 

Oh,  the  loud  south  wind ! 
It  brought  the  rude  song  and  the  African's  jest ; 
It  brought  us  (oh,  shame !)  his  deep  sighs  of 

unrest, 

When  the  foot  of  his  master  bore  hard  on  his 
breast ; 

Did  the  loud  south  wind. 


THE   SOUTH   WIND.  119 

Oh,  the  wild  south  wind ! 
It  brought  us  the  murmurs  of  bitterness  first; 
Then  threats  of  the  traitor  (forever  accursed ;) 
And  the  hum  of  a  tempest  just  ready  to  burst ; 

Did  the  wild  south  wind. 

Oh,  the  mad  south  wind ! 

It  brought  us  the   surge  of  the    battle   mael- 
strom ; 

The  cracking  of  rifles,  the  cannons*  deep  boom ; 
The  crashing  of  mortars,  the  thunders  of  doom ; 

Did  the  mad  south  wind. 

Oh,  the  sad  south  wind! 
It  told  us  anew  the  dark  story  of  Cain  ; 
Rehearsing,  to  grieve  us,  again  and  again, 
The  groans  of  the  dying,  the  dirge  for  the  slain ; 

Did  the  sad  south  wind. 

Oh,  the  glad  south  wind ! 
It  brings    the    sweet   bugle-note,  piercing  and 

strong, 

Proclaiming  the  triumph  of  Right  over  Wrong ; 
And  we  lift  up  our  voices  to  join  in  the  song 

Of  the  glad  south  wind. 


THRENODY. 

IS  MEMORY   OF   CAPT.   JOHN  W.    FALCONER,   418T    REOT.   U.   8.  G 
T.,   WHO    FELL   AT    ATPOMATTOX,  APRIL  8,  1865. 


[READ     night    of    war,    ah    fade     and 

fleet! 

With  those  thy  lurid  phantoms  fade ; 
Leave  thou  no  shadow  at  our  feet, 
But  such  as  erst  the  lilies  made. 
No  longer  pour  on  wave  and  shore 

Thy  vial-drops  of  Plague  and  Pain  ; 
Let  Peace  her  stainless  dews  restore, 

And  breathe  her  balms   o'er  dale  and  plain. 


Alas  !  but  if  the  lilies  blow, 

Fast  crowding  through  each  clasping  sheath, 
They  needs  must  gather  all  their  snow, 

From  out  the  wintry  graves  beneath  ! 
Or  if  the  silver  rains  abound, 

Or  pure  with  balm  be  Summer's  breath, 
Dews  will  but  damp  the  funeral  mound, 

And  every  wind  will  sing  of  death  I 


THRENODY.  121 


III. 

O  ardent  soul  that  loved  the  Right  — 

Most  noble  youth  who  grasped  the  brand, 
When  Freedom,  from  her  towers  of  light, 

Called  far  and  near,  «*  Come,  save  the  land  I  " 
Friend,  brother  —  in  the  rush  and   roar 

Of  battle-tides  swept  out  to  sea  — 
We  stand  together  on  the  shore, 

And  all  our  hearts  cry  out  for  thee  I 

IV. 

Oh  lost !  no  more  when  feasts  invite, 

And  airs  grow  rich  with  jest  and  song, 
When  Sorrow,  ghost-like,  flits  from  sight, 

Wilt  thou  the  cheery  laugh  prolong : 
For  thee  shall  roses  bloom  no  more, 

Nor  rivers  roll,  nor  fountains  play  ; 
Nor  sunsets  blush,  nor  swift  winds  soar, 

Nor  white  moons  charm  the  night  away. 


And  yet  arise  the  glowing  morns  ; 

The  starry  evenings  yet  return  ; 
Still  Love  her  golden  shrine  adorns, 

And  bids  the  costly  spices  burn  ; 
But  if  some  far  land  stays  the  sea, 

If  tides  that  sink  will  surely  swell, 


122  THRENODY. 

If  costlier  spices  burn  for  thee, 

Oh,  who  the  precious  news  will  tell  ? 


What  stream  our  valley-shades  will  cleave, 

Crystal  with  leaping  mountain-rills, 
Some  verdant  laurel-shred  to  leave, 

And  prove  thee  dweller  on  the  hills  ? 
What  bird  her  snowy  wing  will  launch, 

O'er  floods  where  suns  may  never  shine, 
To  bring  the  little,  flowering  branch, 

And  prove  the  whole  sweet  summer  thine? 


Howbeit  for  these  we  vainly  yearn, 

What  song  nor  cymbal  may  recite, 
Nor  eager  eye  and  ear  discern, 

Our  vibrant  hearts  will  learn  aright ; 
And  sinking  into  sunless  sleep, 

The  glad  refrain  will   murmur  o'er,  — — 
"Now  drift  us  on,  dark-rolling  deep, 

A  friend  will  meet  us  on  the   shore  I" 


Phantoms  of  war,  ah   fade   and   fleet  I 
The   lilies  lift   their  chaliced  snow ; 

Soft  are  the  dews,  the  balms   are   sweet; 
Some  breath  of  heaven  begins  to   blow, 


THRENODY.  123 

And  far  and  near  the  voice  we  hear 
Of  Freedom  chanting  o'er  her   slain, — 

"  The  night  is  past,  the  dawn  is  clear  ; 
O   Sleepers  pale,  arise   and  reign ! " 


A  BALLAD  OF  THE  SOUTH  AND  NORTH. 

[H,  once  the  Southron's  talk  was  bold: 
He  vaunted  oft  his  fair  estate, 
His  faithful  slaves,  his  mansion  old, 
His  heart  that  burned  for  love  or  hate. 
"But  spare  our  rights,"  the  North  replied, 

"  With  equal  worth  ye  have  to  deal." 
"Up!  fire  the  Southern  heart!"  he  cried, 
"  We  '11  teach  these  Yankees  how  to  kneel ! 
The  Southern  heart  begins  to  beat : 
We  '11  drop  the  whip,  we  '11  grasp  the 

steel : 

We  '11  take  no  rest  till  'neath  our  feet 
These  coward  Yankees  kneel !  " 

Then  brought  he  forth  his  stolen  guns, 

With  boastful  speech  and  daring  oath : 
He  laughed  to  scorn  our  brawny  sons  — 

"  So  prone  to  toil,  to  fight  so  loath ! " 
Our  Northmen  laid  their  tools  aside, 

And  listened  —  listened  all  alert : 
**  Come  on,  oh  if  ye  dare  !  "  he  cried, 

"  But  know  our  blades  are  sure  to  hurt ! 


A  BALLAD  OF  SOUTH  AND  NORTH.    125 

The  Southern  heart  begins  to  burn  ; 

Our  lordly  nature  we  '11  assert : 
Come,  Yankees,  one  and  all,  but  learn 

Our  blades  are  sure  to  hurt !  " 

O  braggart  Southron,  wail  the  day 

When  Treason  thus  in  arms  did  start: 
For  flames  that  roared  o'er  Charleston  Bay, 
Swept  on  and  fired  —  the  Northern  heart  I 
Then  flashed  the  sun  on  serried  steel ; 

Then  Northern  words  were  proud  to  hear : 
"  Who  dares  to  bid  our  Freemen  kneel, 
Shall  meet  a  foe  who  cannot  fear ! " 
The  Northern  heart  began  to  beat; 

The  Northern  voice  rang  far  and  clear : 
"  Who    bids    our    Freemen    kneel,  shall 

meet 
A  foe  who  cannot  fear  ! " 

On  marched  our  glorious  Yankee  lads, 

Our  craft  the  rolling  billow  cleft  ; 
Loud  crashed  the  grand  columbiads, 

The  rifles  rattled  right  and  left. 
The  slave  went  free  ;  the  fair  estate 

In  gore  was  drenched,  with  fire  was  girt; 
The  vanquished  Southron  learned  too  late 

That  Yankee  blades  were  sure  to  hurt. 


126    A  BALLAD  'OF  SOUTH  AND  NORTH. 

The     Northern     heart     with     courage 

burned ; 

Our  equal  rights  we  dared  assert : 
Too     late     the     vanquished     Southron 

learned 
Our  blades  were  sure  to  hurt! 


THE   REALM  OF  THE    WEST. 

'AVE  ye  heard  of  the   beautiful  Realm 

of  the  West, 
Encircled  by  oceans  and  kissed  by  the 

sun? 
Have  ye  heard  of  the  nations  that  thrive  on  her 

breast, 
Bright  heirs  of  her  grandeur,  the  "  Many  in 

One  ?  " 
Kings    cannot    govern    this    land    of    our 

choice : 

Liberty  loves  us,  and  Peace  is  our  guest : 
Shout  for  the  Union  with   heart   and  with 

voice  — 

God  is  our  King   in  this   Realm  of  the 
West! 

Have  ye  heard  of  the  wonderful  conflict  of  old  ? 
The  lion  was  torn  by  the  bird  of  the  sun  : 
Through  the  world  was  the  fame  of  our  Wash- 
ington rolled, 
And  Heaven  sealed  to  Freedom  the  "  Many 

in  One  !  " 
Kings  cannot  govern,   etc. 


128         THE  REALM    OF   THE   WEST. 

Have  ye  heard   of  our   armies,  so  valiant   and 

true? 

The  flag  of  the  serpent  did  writhe  in  the  sun ; 
Put  they  marched  to  the  field  with  the  "  Red, 

White,  and  Blue," 
And  saved   from   the   traitor   our  "  Many  in 

One." 
Kings  cannot  govern,  etc. 

'Tis  the  psalm  of  the  Free  that  is  borne  on  the 

breeze  : 

It  leaps  from  the  heart  of  each  patriot  son, 
While  the  full,  surging  chorus  is  sung   by  the 

seas,  — 
"  FOREVER     AND    EVER  —  the     '  MANY    IN 

ONE  ! '  " 
Kings    cannot    govern    this    land    of   our 

choice  : 

Liberty  loves  us,  and  Peace  is  our  guest : 
Shout  for  the  Union  with  heart   and  with 

voice  — 

God  is  our  King  in  this   Realm  of  the 
West! 


THE  YEAR  OF  PEACE. 

JANUARY  1st,  1866. 

;AKE  room  in  heaven,  ye  starry  choirs, 

that  loud  your  lofty  anthems  sing! 
Here 's   one   whose  voice    shall   drown 
your  lyres,  and  make  the  sky-built  arches 
ring: 

While  fleet  as  light  he  soars  aloft,  with  milk- 
white  hand  his  harp  he  beats  — 
And  hark !  the  midnight  echo  soft,  some  faint, 
far- wandering  strain  repeats !  — 

*'  Cleft  is  the  steel-wrought  helm  of  Guilt,  and 
shattered  is  the  brazen  shield; 

His  sword  lies  broken  at  the  hilt ;  prone  sleeps 
the  giant  on  the  field ; 

No  more  those  bolts  of  battle  smite,  that,  on- 
ward crashing,  shook  the  world; 

And  from  the  battlements  of  Right  are  all  its 
mad  assailants  hurled. 

"  Columbia  lives !  the  mighty  deeps  whose  purple 
waves  against  her  bore, 
9 


130  THE    YEAR    OF  PEACE. 

Roll  back  down  Time's  unsounded  steeps,  and, 
darkly  sinking,  swell  no  more. 

Columbia  lives !  behold  her  rise,  with  glistening 
raiment  pure  as  snow ! 

Her  star  of  morning  mounts  the  skies  —  she 
sees  the  crimson  glories  grow. 

"  Enrapt,    with    heavenward    gaze    she    stands 

—  God's  oriflamme  above  her  flung  — 
With  Victory's  roses  in  her   hands,  and   songs 

of  triumph  on  her  tongue. 
The  sapphire  doors  half  open  sway,  where  all 

her  martyrs  passed  from  view, — 
Reluctant  yet  to  darken  day  nor  let  such  kingly 

warriors  through. 

"  From    mountain  range   to  mountain  range   a 

proud  prophetic  voice  is  rolled :  — 
1  Though   empires   fall,  though   oceans   change, 

still  shall  Columbia  wax  not  old ! 
Ere  Time  her  throne  shall  overthrow,  or  aught 

its  broad  foundations  rock, 
The   crescent  moon   shall   cease   to   grow,   the 

sun  to  lead  his  starry  flock ! ' ' 

Make  room,  make  room,  ye  sun-bright  choirs  — 
swell  the  loud  anthem  of  the  Year ! 

Strike  well  your  glad  concordant  lyres  ;  the  sky's 
reverberant  arches  hear! 


THE   YEAR   OF  PEACE.  181 

But  hark !  ere  yet  the  echo  fails  that  soft  your 

midnight  strain  repeats, 
Pale  Sorrow  in  her  cavern  wails,  and  wild  her 

solemn  harp  she  beats :  — 

"  O  ye  who  strove  when  close  and  fast   War's 

flaming  arrows  hissed  afar, 
And  where  god  Slavery  rode,  were  cast  to  death, 

beneath  its  gory  car ; 
And  thou  great  Chief,  who,  sure  of  God,  within 

the  fiery  furnace  thrown, 
Like  those  of  old  securely  trod,  nor  walked  the 

burning  path  alone; 

"  Bay-crowned,  the  golden  hills  ye  climb,  and 
holy  hosts  your  ranks  surround : 

They  lead  your  skyward  march  sublime,  while 
all  heaven's  pealing  clarions  sound ; 

The  stars  may  linger  in  their  spheres,  the  suns 
may  falter  as  they  whirl, 

Ye  still  will  count  your  blissful  years,  —  like  sil- 
ver shining  flowers  unfurl. 

"  But  year  on  year  shall  roll  away ;  while 
blossoms  blush  or  fade  the  leaves, 

Ye  shall  not  through  our  valleys  stray,  nor  bind 
again  our  rustling  sheaves. 


132  THE   YEAR   OF  PEACE. 

Ah  people,  rear  your  shafts  of  pride,  loud  hymns 

and  endless  praises  pour  — 
Their  countless  graves  ye  may  not  hide,    and 

Love  sits  weeping  evermore  !  " 

Peace,  peace,  ye  midnight  harpers  wild !  ye  hills 

your  echoing  sighs  refrain! 
All    cherub-fair  yon    rosy   child,    star-heralded, 

comes  down  to  reign, 
From  heaven  a  voice  the  silence  rends  —  while 

crowned  and  sceptred  on  he  moves  — 
"  Columbians,  lo !   the   fire  descends,  and   God 

your  holocaust  approves!" 


THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  LIBERTY. 

NATION  of  my  hope, 
Prove  true,  I  said : 
The  lines  of  thy  horoscope 
My  Chaldean  lore  hath  read: 
And  far   through   the   night  burns   an   arc  of 

light, 

Where  the  prophet-star  hath  sped: 
Prove  true,  I  said. 

By  God's  most  sacred  hand, 

(Prove  true,  I  said:) 
.  Into  a  bountiful  land 

Thine  infant  steps  were  led ; 
And  the  flower  and  the  vine   gave   honey  and 

wine, 

Whereby  thy  life  was  fed: 
Prove  true,  I   said. 

Hurt  by  the  wrath  of  kings, 

(Prove  true,  I  said  :  ) 
Thou,  under  the  eagle's  wings, 

Didst  shelter  thy  drooping   head, 


134        THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  LIBERTY. 

While   the   rain  of  thy  wound   did   cover  the 

ground, 

Of  lucid  dew,  in  the  stead : 
Prove  true,  I  said. 

To  the  holy  truth  of  God, 

Prove  true,  I  said  : 
Though  struck  by  his  chastening  rod, 

Or  tried  in  the  furnace  dread, 
Or  chained,  death-cold,  to  the  rocks  of  old, 

Where  vulture  flocks  were  fed, — 

Prove  true,  I  said. 

O  people  of  my  love, 

Be  free,  I  said : 
Till  all  the  fires  above 

From  the  altars  of  heaven  are  fled  ; 
Till  its  halls  of  light  have  sevenfold  'plight, 

And  the  spheres  are  dumb  with  dread,  — 

Be  free,  I  said. 

On  Afric's  golden  strand, 

(Be  free,  I   said:) 
The  wild  wind  gave  command, 

And  the  ships  before  it  fled,  — 
Till  the  Southern  wine  of  this  people  of  mine 

With  Afric's  blood  was  red : 

Be  free,  I  said. 


THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  LIBERTY.       135 

Ah,  then  fierce  madness  came ; 

(Be  free,  I  said  ! ) 
The  air  was  hot  with  flame, 

The  rivers  below  ran  red  ; 
For  the  guns  did  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 

And  the  heart  of  the  nation  bled : 

Be  free,  I  said. 

Down  fell  the  slaver's  whip, 

(Be  free,  I  said  ! ) 
And  clanking  chains  did  slip 

From  limbs  that  shook  with  dread ; 
While  the  burning  breath  of  that  wind  of  death, 
At  the  smile  of  Jehovah,  fled : 
Be  free,  I  said. 

Then  all  the  people  bowed ; 

(Be  free,  I  said:) 
For  the  bolt  that  hissed  in  the  cloud 

From  God's  right  hand  had  sped  ; 
But  heaven   grew   bright  with   sevenfold   light, 

For  the  sake  of  the  royal  dead : 

Be  free,  I  said. 

O  nation  of  my  hope, 

Live  long  I  I  said  ; 
With  the  lines  of  thy  horoscope 

A  threefold  splendor  is  wed ; 


136        THE  SOLILOQUY  OF  LIBERTY. 

For  thy  stars  with   the  moon,  and  the  sun   at 

noon, 

On  golden  wings  have  sped : 
Live  long,  I  said. 

Live  till  the  seas  go  dry, — 

Live  long,  I   said ; 
Till  the  sluices  of  the  sky 

Their  last,  wild  rains  have  shed ; 
Till  the   roses  pale,  and   the  seasons  fail, 

And   mountains   bury   the  dead : 

Live   long !  I   said. 

Thou  nation  of  my  heart, 

Live  long  !  I  said  : 
Live  till  the  stars  depart, 

By  the  wan  moon  deathward  led; 
Till  the  sun  drops  down  like  a  shattered  crown 

From  an  old  king's  dying  head : 

Live  long !  I  said. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE  VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST. 

N  the   midst   of  the    desert,    companion 
was  none  : 

My  bed  was  the  sand,  and  my  pillow  a 

stone ; 
With  my  face  to   the   East    sought   I   slumber 

and  rest, 
While  Osiris  entered  the  house  of  the  West. 

I  feared  not  the  power  of  the  spirits  that  slay, 
For  I  wore   the  white   robe    of  the   priesthood 

of  day  ; 

But  the  whirring  of  arrows  I  heard  from  afar, 
Where    Chamsin   the    Southwind   made    ready 

for  war. 

By  the  fount  where  the  gods  wont  to  lave   did 

I  lie: 
It  had  shrunk  to  its  caverns ;  its  channels  were 

dry; 

And  I  saw,  in  the  dim  skies,  the  Scorpion  glare, 
As  the  chariot  of  Night  swept  the  zone  of  the 

air. 


140     VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST. 

Then  a  shape  from  the  earth  rose,  and  darkened 

and  grew ; 

With  wings  like  the  wings  of  a  dragon  it  flew ; 
The  far  constellations  did  tremble  and  reel : 
Then  knew  I  the  Vexer  of  Heaven,  Adbeel. 

I  rose  —  I,  the  mortal  —  confronting  the  Shade  ; 
Nor  quailed  in  his  pathway,  nor  cried  out   for 

aid: 
Heaven  was  not,  earth  was  not,  time  was  not, 

nor  light ; 
But  only  Adbeel  and  my  soul  and  the  night. 

His  wild  eyes  I  saw  —  eyes   that   never  might 

sleep  — 

Now  lurid  and  baleful,  now  darkened  and  deep ; 
His  breath  scorched  the  air   like   the  wind   of 

the  East, 
And  the  censer  he  bore,  and  the  rod  of  the  priest. 

In  silence  most  awful  we  stood  soul  to  soul, 
And  a  great  cloud  of  incense  around  us  did  roll ; 
The  smoke  of  the  incense  did  bend  overhead, 
Like  Buthos,  the  Black-winged,  that  broods  o'er 
the  dead. 

"And   thou   art    the    Servant  of  Typhon,"   I 
thought. 


VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST.     141 

"  Is  great  Demiurgos  then  Ruler  for  nought  ? 
Has  Neith  torn  the  veil  from  her  virginal  breast  ? 
Is  Osiris  bound  in  the  house  of  the  West  ?  " 

The  eye  of  the  Vexer  did  lighten  and  gleam, 
While,  always,  that  smoke  from  the  censer  did 

stream ; 

And  lo,  on  its  front,  flames  of  scarlet  did  write, 
"  Great  Typhon  is  Ruler  —  the  god  of  the  night. 

*'  And  ihou  art  his  servant :  forever  to  dwell 
By  Ameles,  the  fountain  and  river  of  hell. 
The  robe  of  thine  office  strip  from  thee  in  dread, 
For  Osiris  enters  the  house  of  the  dead." 


"  I  pay  thee  no  homage,  thou  priest  of  the  cloud, 
Though    Isis    go    mourning,    and  *Ammon  be 

bowed : 

Not  Typhon  is  Ruler,  while,  daring  his  might, 
One  soul  wears  the  robe  of  the  priesthood  of 

light." 

But  symbols  of  fire  ran  anew  on   the   scroll  — 
"Thou    art   sealed    for   the   death:   who    shall 

rescue  thy  soul? 

For  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  tremble  and  reel 
At  the  power  of  the  Vexer  of  Heaven,  Adbeel." 


H2     VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST. 

"  Go,  seal  them  the  stars  in  the  zone  of  the  sky  ; 
Drag  them  down  to  the  pit,  from  their  houses 

on  high ; 

At  the  feet  of  dark  Typhon   forever  to  roll : 
But  who,  who  shall  darken  the  star  of  the  soul  ?  " 

More  lurid  and  awful,  quick  flames  pierced  the 

cloud, 
"At  the  feet   of  great   Typhon   lies   Neith   in 

her  shroud  ; 

Demiurgos  is  fallen,  Amenthe  is  won  ; 
Then  where  is   thy  savior,  thou  priest   of  the 

sun  ?  " 

"  Though  the  gods  are  asleep  in   the  house  of 

the  dead, 

Behold  I  I,  the  mortal,  am  god  in  their  stead  ! 
And  thou  in  my  presence  shalt  tremble  and  reel, 
Like  the  far  constellations,  thou  Vexer,  Ad- 

beel ! " 

Then  white  was  that   cloud  with   the   heat   of 

his  ire  ; 

He  moved  on,  majestic,  all  shrouded  in  fire  ; 
With   the   rod    of  his    priesthood    uplifted,   he 

strode ; 
He  called  forth  his  slaves  from  their  secret  abode. 


VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST.     143 

They  heard  —  they  came  forth,  at  his  mandate, 

in  haste  : 
Uprose,    in   their  pathways,    the   sands   of   the 

waste ; 
They*  chariots,  bird-drawn,  through  the   desert 

were  driven ; 
And  wings  shook  the  air,  like  the  thunders  of 

heaven. 

Their  arrows,  like  scorpions,  hissed  in  my  ears ; 
I  was  deaf  with  the  clang  and  the  whir  of  their 

spears : 
But  I  wore  the  white  robe  of  the  priesthood  of 

day  — 
They  cowered  at  my  feet,  they  fled,  shrieking, 

away. 

Adbeel  was  alone,  with  the  heat  of  his  wrath  : 
He  smote  with  the  rod,  he  divided  the  path  ; 
The    torn    breast   of    earth   gasped    in   audible 

breath, 
Like  the  groaning  of  gods  at  the  portals  of  Death. 

From  the  chasm  underneath  gushed  forth  lava, 

like  blood ; 

Beside  me,  around,  ran  the  fire  of  the  flood  ; 
Overhead  was  the  blaze  of  the  pendulous  cloud  ; 
Before,  stood  that  servant  of  Typhon  the  Proud. 


144     VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST. 

I  lifted  the  rod  of  my  priesthood  on  high  — 
The  smoke  of  the  incense  went  out  of  the  sky  : 
I  touched   the  hot   sand  —  it  was  healed  of  its 

scars  ; 
For  the  earth  knew  Aseneth,  the  priest  of  the 

stars! 

He  saw :  in  deep  silence  we  stood  for  a  space ; 
His  breath,  like  the  breeze  of  hell,  blew  in  my 

face  ; 

His  eyes,  within  mine,  did  concentre  and  steep  ; 
They  were  subtle  as  Death,  —  as  the  pit  they 

were  deep. 

In  the  strength  of  my  godhood  confronting  the 

Shade, 
I  shook   not,  I  quailed  not,  I  shrieked  not  for 

aid ; 

My  eyes,  within  his,  did  not  waver  nor  veer : 
He   trembled,  he   reeled,  he   was  smitten  with 

fear. 

He    fled    from    before   me  —  his   pinions  were 

fleet! 
Lo,  the  fount  of  the  gods  sprang  anew  at  my 

feet; 
From    the   altar    of  Ammon,  all   stainless   and 

white, 
Came  that  mystical  dove,  the  restorer  of  light. 


VISION  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  PRIEST     145 

And  the   lotus-flower   out  of  the   fountain  was 

born, — 

Its  azure  and  silver  were  fair  as  the  morn  : 
Thereon,  softly  cradled,  lay  Horus  the  Wise  — 
Avenger  of  Osiris,  Child  of  the  skies. 

I  looked  to  the  East  —  there  had  risen  a  star ; 

I  saw  the  fair  gates  of  Amenthe  unbar ; 

I  beheld  (yet  I  lived)  through  the  veil  of  their 

shrine, 
Demiurgos  and  Neith  —  One  and  ever  Divine. 

Their   love    did    constrain    me  —  it    drew    me 

above, 
Through  the  gates  of  Amenthe,  drawn  on  by 

their  love  ; 

There,  prostrate,  adoring   the    Centre  of  Day, 
I   was  numbered   with   gods  —  I   was   holy   as 

they. 

10 


DAY  AND  NIGHT. 

|NE  eve  my  Margery  and  I 

Sat  watching  —  blissfully  alone  — 
The  splendor  creeping  down  the  sky, 
The  darkness  climbing  to  its   throne. 

The  sun  was  somewhere  in  the  West ; 

We  knew  it  by  the  jets  of  light 
That  leaped  against  the  evening's  breast ; 

But  he  was  sunken  out  of  sight. 

And  as  we  marked  the  gleams  that  gave 
To  twilight  transient  hues  of  dawn, 

The  Night,  that  painter  pale  and  grave, 
Brushed  out  the  lines  that  Day  had  drawn. 

On  lake  and  landscape,  cloud  and  sky, 
With  violet  shades  blurred  all  the  parts, 

Until  we  felt  —  my  love  and  I  — 
An  evening  in  our  very  hearts. 

And  so  I  said  —  her  hand  in  mine, 
Her  head  against  my  shoulder  laid  — 


DAY  AND  N1QHT.  147 

"  Wise  Nature  oft  inscribes  some  sign, 
Which,  to  interpret,  makes  afraid. 

"  While  sunlight,  Margery,  always  fair, 
Is  symbol  sweet  of  what  thou  art; 

This  hour,  that  darkens  all  the  air, 
Portrays  my  own  sad  counterpart. 

"  Day  dies  with  the  approach  of  night : 
Tims  do  I  read  the  fateful  sign  ; 

Thy  life,  with  its  transcendant  light, 
Will  perish  if  'tis  linked  with  mine." 

Straightway  she  answered,  while  a  glance 
Of  lustrous  meaning  lit  her  eye  : 

"  The  shades  of  life  its  lights  enhance, 
And  I,  for  love  of  thee,  would  die  ! 

"  Yet  day  dies  not,  but  being  drawn 
Beyond  itself  (so  love  is  given) 

Makes  for  the  night  a  silver  dawn, 

And  gains — a  twilight  glimpse  of  heaven." 


MORTA. 

'ITHER  some  conquering  magnet  brings 
My   soul,   from    shadowed    haunts   of 

Time: 

Up  through  an  empty  space  I  climb  — 
I  soar,  and  yet  I  wear  no  wings. 

I  pause,  yet  feel  no  earth  beneath ; 

I  see  nor  sun  nor  moon  nor  star ; 

I  hear  no  murmurous  seas  afar; 
I  breathe  no  zephyr's  perfumed  breath. 

Yet  now  a  humming  in  my  ears, — 
A  woful,  wailing,  wild  refrain ; 
As  if  the  Night,  aware  of  wane, 

Lamenting,  woke  the  silent  spheres. 

And  lo !  a  radiance  intense 

Spreads  far  and  wide;  so  very  white, 

It  seems  the  spirit  of  a  light 
Divorced  by  spirit-law  from  sense. 


MORTA.  149 

By  spirit-law  is  given  to  me 
The  excellence  of  spirit-sight : 
Ensphered  by  this  undazzling  light, 

A  silent,  smileless  group  I  see. 

Two  white-garbed  spinners  at  a  wheel 
Whence  constant,  mad  complainings  flow; 
And  One,  whose  task  I  may  not  know, 

Nor  its  significance  unseal. 

An  ebon  crown,  of  regal  mold, 
Circles  the  grandeur  of  her  head; 
The  whiteness  of  her  robe  is  dread; 

And  she  is  wan  and  very  old. 

No  wind  is  in  her  silver  hair; 

No  breath  from  her  pale  mouth  exhales : 
Yet,  toward  me,  while  she  slowly  sails, 

My  soul  her  answering  speech  will  dare. 

O  woman  of  the  shrouded  eye, 
Of  frigid  mien  and  ashen  brow, 
Speak:    wherefore,   whence,   and  who   art 
thou  ? 

Resolve  this  threefold  mystery. 

"  By  this  calm  brow  —  most  dreary  calm ! 
By  this  white  cheek  —  most  deathly  white ! 


150  MORTA. 

By  this  closed  eye  that  knows  no  sight, 
Sister,  thou  readest  all  I  am. 

**  From  Time's  dark  fleece  grave  Nona's  hand 
Draws  out  the  slender  thread  of  life ; 
Whirling  the  humming  wheel  of  strife, 

Decima  winds  the  tortured  strand. 

"  But  I  am  Morta,  —  she  who  rends, 
With  instant  touch  its  length  in  twain ; 
And  there  is  no  more  bliss  nor  pain 

Forever,  when  the  spinning  ends. 

"Who  hears  my  solemn  words,  must  rise 
And  follow,  follow  where  I  lead : 
A  captive,  never  to  be  freed, 

With  voiceless  throat  and  sightless  eyes." 

And  art  thou  Morta?     O  most  rare, 
Most  piercing  melody  of  voice ! 
As  if  the  heart  had  sung,  "  Rejoice ! " 

Even  while  the  lips  had  wailed  "Despair!" 

Nona,  arise ;  put  by  the  fleece,  — 
Life  fails  with  torture  overmuch ; 
Stay,  Decima,  thy  guiding  touch, 

And  let  the  troublous  spinning  cease : 


MORTA.  151 

Morta,  I  hear  —  I  follow  thee ; 
I  hold  thee  by  thy  robe  of  snow : 
Yet  go  where  thou  canst  never  go, 

And  see  what  thou  canst  never  see. 

A  fleece  of  shining  white  unrolled ; 

A  wheel  whose  turning  has  no  end; 

A  joined  thread  thou  canst  not  rend, 
And  One  the  gleaming  strand  doth  hold. 

Softly  the  singing  wheel  revolves; 
Softly  my  heart  sings  evermore : 
While,  learned  in  Life's  seraphic  lore, 

Death's  threefold  mystery  it  solves. 


DO  WE  LOVE  AS  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO  ? 


|T   was   once,   long  ago,    on   the    dawn- 
lighted  river, 
Our  fairy  canoe   rode  like   foam   down 

the  tide  ; 

White  lilies  afloat  with  the   ripples  did  quiver, 

But  fairer  than  they  was  the  girl  at  my  side. 

Now  dost  thou   remember  —  ah   dost  thou 

remember 
The  garland  I  wove  for  that  forehead  of 

snow  ? 
Forget   the    dead   leaves    of   Life's    frosty 

December, 

And  say,  do  we  love  as  we  loved  long 
ago? 

n. 

The   robin   with   song   the    glad    morning    was 

greeting ; 
No  mist  rolled  above  the  young  sun  to  eclipse  ; 

"  I  love  thee,  I  love  thee,"  my  heart   kept  re- 
peating, 


DO  WE  LOVE  AS  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO?  153 

Till  Love  throbbed  its  way  from  my  heart  to 

my  lips. 
Now  dost  thou  remember  —  ah    dost   thou 

remember 
The  blushes  that  mantled  that  forehead 

of  snow  ? 
Forget  the  dark  days  of  our  frosty  Decem- 

ber, 
And  say,  do  we  love  as  we  loved  long 


in. 

Oh  loud   trilled  the   robin  !    oh  bright  was   the 

river  ! 

The  white  lilies  danced  on  its  ripples  in  glee  : 
'Neath  thy  low-drooping  lids  though   the    tear- 
drops did  quiver, 
A   smile,  like  the  sunrise,  flashed   answer  to 

me. 
Now   dost   thou  remember  —  ah  dost   thou 

remember 
The  kisses   that  fell  on  that  forehead  of 

snow  ? 

Forget  the  cold  winds  of  our  frosty  Decem- 
ber, 

And  say,  do  we  love  as  we  loved  long 
ago?' 


154  DO  WE  LOVE  AS  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO? 


IV. 
'T  was  long,  long  ago  :    all  the   sunbeams  are 

dying ; 
Our  roses  have  lost  their  red  leaves   in   the 

blast. 

But  still  thy  sweet  smile  to  my  heart  is  replying, 
"  We  love  as  we  loved  in  the  days  that  are 

past." 
Thou   still    dost   remember  —  yes,  proudly 

remember 
The  veil  of  the  bride  on  that  forehead 

of  snow  ! 
'T  will  crown  thee  where  Life  has  no  frosty 

December : 

We  always  shall  love  as  we  loved  long 
ago ! 


SHIPWRECKED. 

i. 

'E  two  waited  on  the  deck  — 
All  around  us  rolled  the  sea  ; 
Helpless,  on  our  reeling  wreck, 
Silent,  wan,  and  worn  were  we. 
Where  the  little  boat  went  down, 

Where  the  sun  had  plunged  from  sight, 
Hope  and  light  alike  did  drown  — 
O'er  us,  dark  as  Fate,  was  night. 
Face  to  face  we  stood  alone, 

Dreary,  still,  and  sad  were  we  ; 
Smitten  by  that  wild  cyclone, 
All  around  us  beat  the  sea, 
Rose  the  sea,  rushed  the  sea, 
Roared  the  wrathful  sea ! 

n. 
Cloudy  shapes  like  hooded  ghouls, 

Flitted  past  our  shuddering  prow  ; 
Death  was  reaching  for  our  souls, 

Chill  his  breath  upon  the  brow  : 


1 5  6  SHIP  WRECKED. 

Then,  oh  then  were  we  aware, 

Through  all  war  below,  above, 
Of  a  face  sublimely  fair  — 

Was  it  Death  unveiled,  or  Love  ? 
Heart  to  heart  we  stood  alone, 

Smiling  and  serene  were  we ; 
Tortured  by  that  wild  cyclone, 
All  around  us  strove  the  sea, 
Wailed  the  sea,  mourned  the  sea, 
Sobbed  the  toiling  sea. 

in. 

While  we  watched,  a  seething  tide 
O'er  our  sinking  vessel  crossed  ; 
Out  among  the  waters  wide, 

Smiling  still,  we  two  were  tossed  ; 
Tossed  and  drifted,  overcome 

In  a  crowd  of  surges  dread, 
Bruised  and  beaten,  blind   and  dumb, 
So  we  sank  among  the  dead. 

O  my  love,  and  mine  alone, 

Sweet  it  was  to  die  with  thee ! 
Far  beneath  that  dread  cyclone, 
All  around  us  rocked  the  sea, 
Crept  the  sea,  sank  the  sea, 
Slept  the  silent  sea. 


SHIPWRECKED.  157 


IV. 

Through  our  slumber  sweet  and  deep, 

Stole  the  growing  light  of  dawn  ; 
Heart  and  brain  its  warmth  did  steep, 
Out  of  death  our  souls  were  drawn. 
So  we  breathed,  awoke,  arose,  — 
Heart  to  heart  and  lip  to  lip  ; 
Where  Love's  golden  ocean  flows, 
Ever  sails  our  snowy  ship. 

Never  sun  so  softly  shone ; 

Fair,  in    saintly  robes  are  we  I 
O'er  us  shrieks  no  mad  cyclone, 

All  around  us  sings  the  sea, 
Gleams  the  sea,  glides  the  sea, 
Laughs  the  lovely  seal 


HERTHA. 

[ITHIN  my  room,  by  heat  oppressed, 
(All  morning  shades    being    vanished 

quite,) 

I  loitered  long  —  a  favorite  guest, 
Right  free  to  idle  as  I  might ; 
Yet  fretted  sadly,  void  of  rest, 

And  in  no  thought  could  take  delight. 

"  Obscure  thy  sun,  fair  August  day ! " 
My  peevish  lips  did  sighing  plead  ; 

"  Drop  down  the  shining,  silvery  way, 
Yon  far-drawn  mists  from  rivers  freed ; 

Nor  let  the  tawny  eve  delay  — 

Thou  givest  warmth  beyond  the  need." 

My  tempted  soul  took  up  the  thought  : 
"  On  some  thy  heart  is  greatly  bent, 

Who  cold  and  scant  returns  have  brought, 
And  thou  withal  hast  been  content ; 

Perchance  they  sigh  — '  O  warmth  unsought ! 
We  would  this  noon  of  love  were  spent ! ' ' 


HERTHA.  159 

The  birdling,  happy  in  his  cage, 

Trilled  like  Venetian  boatman's  flute  ; 

Nor  could  the  golden  creature  gauge 
His  tireless  voice  my  mood  to  suit ; 

"  Sweet  song,"  I  cried,  "  but  it  were  sage 
If  now  and  then  the  bird  were  mute  ! " 

"  Aye  !  "  said  my  soul,  "  and  do  thou  note 
The  same,  lest  thy  beloved  sneer, 

4  Sweet  may  thy  song  be,  but  by  rote 
We  have  its  round  of  carols  clear: 

It  were  but  wise  to  rest  the  throat, 
And  trouble  less  the  sated  ear.'  " 

But  white-browed  Hertha,  gentle  child, 
Thereat  came  near,  and,  pleading,  said, 

"  I  know  where  waters    undefiled 
Are  over  rocks  and  rushes  shed  ; 

And  softest  mosses  near  them  piled, 
Make  dewy  cushions  for  the  head. 

"  Dear  lady,  through  so  green  a  nook 
Your  city  pathways  never  strayed ; 

Then  Qome  !  "  so  urged,  her  hand  I  took, 
And  walked  beside  the  little  maid, 

Through  odorous  clover,  to  the  brook 
That  did  its  flowery  bank  abrade. 


160  HERTHA. 

0  swift  and  pure  !  half  bright,  half  dark, 
It  trailed  the  supple  willow  bough ; 

Thence  rose  the  grateful  meadow-lark, 
Singing  as  but  the  lark  knows  how  : 

1  looked  therein,  and  blushed  to  mark 
The  fretful  line  across  my  brow. 

"  My  loving  Hertha,"  then  I  sighed, 
"  I  am  ashamed  of  grief  to-day ! 

Be  thou  my  mentor  as  my  guide ; 

Thy  mood  I'll  mirror,  grave  or  gay." 

She  pondered,  laughed,  and  she  replied, 
"  Then  half  yourself  you  '11  throw  away  ! 

"  Even  so,"  quoth  I,  and  laughed  as  well ; 

Meanwhile  the  brooklet  at  our  feet 
Had  plunged  into  a  cooling  dell, 

And  under  talking  trees  did  beat  : 
Howbeit,  though  they  had  news  to  tell, 

Their  speech  to  us  was  obsolete. 

Despite  the  roughness  of  the  way, 

With  childish  glee  we  wandered  down ; 

The  scented  brier  would  lean  and  sway, 
And  lightly  pluck  us  by  the  gown ; 

Our  steps  did  many  a  bird  affray, 
Our  laughter  many  a  warble  drown. 


HERTHA.  161 

"  Full  densely  here  the  boughs  o'erlace, 

Now  let  us  rest,"  I  often  said ; 
"  Here,  Hertha,  is  the  loveliest  place,"  — 

And,  "  Here  are  cushions  for  the  head." 
She  only  turned  a  willful  face, 

And  I,  obedient,  still  was  led. 

But  now  a  beech  had  turned  the  tide 

Through   spicewood    bowers   where  followed 
we; 

It  spread  its  silken  meshes  wide, 

And  down  a  chasm  went  floating  free. 

Oh  never  veil  of  princess-bride 
In  broidery  half  so  rich  could  be ! 

There  we  on  couches  green  did  sink  : 
No  burning  sun  might  rest  deny  ; 

But  like  a  bird  that  chose  to  drink, 
One  flake  of  light  was  flitting  by, 

And  all  the  bubbles  on  the  brink 
Therewith  did  rainbows  multiply. 

Then,  after  rest  and  reverie  long, 
(For  who  could  idly  prattle  there?) 

I  spake  and  did  the  sweetness  wrong,  — 
"  Dear  Hertha,  life  is  full  of  care  ; 

And  we,  who  are  not  wise  and  strong, 
Have  more  of  grief  than  heart  can  bear. 
11 


162  HERTHA. 

"But  if  we  love  —  are  loved  in  turn  — 
How  light  becomes  the  largest  weight! 

Now  tell  me,  for  I  fain  would  learn, 
How  shall  we  find  such  gentle  fate  ? 

Alas!  for  love  too  many  yearn, 
And  all  their  days  go  desolate ! " 

No  straight  reply  the  maiden  chose, 
But  mused :  "  I  saw  a  worm  to-day 

That  slept  and  fed  upon  a  rose, 

Till  something  prompted  it  to  stray; 

Slow  creeping  thence,  it  lost  repose, 

And  piercing  thorns  were  in  the  way ! " 

Her  thought  I  seized :  God's  love  being  ours, 

Still  on  a  fadeless  rose  we  feed ! 
We  bask  in  light,  we  bathe  in  showers ; 

No  softer  couch  our  spirits  need. 
Thence  creeping  —  ah  we  find  no  flowers! 

But  thorns  are  sharp  and  hearts  must  bleed. 

Within  my  arms  the  child  I  drew ; 

She  kissed  away  my  bursting  tears; 
"  O  Rose,"  I  cried,  "  yet  fair  and  new, 

Though  left  for  thorns  these  many  years! 
My  heart  receives  thy  falling  dew, 

My  climbing  soul  thy  beauty  nears ! " 


THE  BALLAD  OF  ETHEL  LEE. 

I. 

i  AIR  Ethel,  the  hill-side  is  cold, 

The  pathway  is  rugged  and  bleak  ; 
The    whirling    snows    whiten     thy 
cheek  ; 
The  north  wind  is  ruthless  and  bold; 

Hear  the  firs,  how  they  shudder  and  shriek ! 
There  is  nought  for  a  maiden  to  seek  — 
Not  a  blossom  would  dare  to  unfold  ! 

Lovely  Ethel,  return 

To  thy  place  by  the  hearth,  where  the  scarlet 
flowers  brighten  and  burn  !  " 

n. 

"  Oh  barren   and  bleak  is  the  hill ! 
Oh  cruel  and  cold  is  the  wind  ! 
But  the  souls  I  am  leaving  behind 
Are  colder,  less  merciful  still! 

They  have   thrust   me   out   rude   and   un- 
kind ; 
Far  I  seek  and  no  shelter  I  find ; 


1G4        THE  BALLAD   OF  ETHEL  LEE. 

Through  my  heart,  through  ray  heart  creeps 
the  chill ! 

But  I  will  not   return  ! 

Not  for   me   on   their   hearth  shall   the  scarlet 
flowers  blossom  and  burn !  " 

in. 

"  Now,  why  have   they  thrust  thee  away, 
This  death  of  the  outcast  to  dree  ?  " 
"  For  the  troth  thou  hast  plighted  to  me, 
Thy  mother  did  spurn  me  to-day. 

*  He  shall  wed  not  the  servant,'  said  she : 
'  Shall  not  stoop  from  his  noble  degree  !  ' 
Ride  thou  on  to  thy  castle,  and  say 

That  I  scorn  to  return 

To  the  hearth  of  the  proud,  though  the  scarlet 
flowers  blossom  and  burn !  " 

IV. 

Oh  wroth  was  Laird  William  that  hour ! 

And  he  sware,  "  Ere  the  daylight  hath  fled, 

The  son  of  her  house  thou  shalt  wed  ! 

The  bells  shall  peal  out  in  yon  tower; 

The  glad  feast  of  our  bridal  be  spread ; 

And  thy  truth  and  thy  beauty,"  he  said, 

"  Shall  be  counted  rich  treasure  and  dower ! 

And  none  shall  dare  spurn 
My  bride  from   the   hearth   where   the  scarlet 
flowers  blossom  and  burn." 


THE  BALLAD   OF  ETHEL  LEE.        165 


How  vain  is  thy  scorn,  Ethel  Lee! 

He   has   snatched    thee   from    sorrow   and 

death  ; 

Thy  pale  cheek  is  warm  with  his  breath  ; 
His  steed  gallops  fleetly   and  free. 

"  Ho  !  my  mother,  make  ready !  "  he  saith  ; 
So  a  merry,  brave  wedding  he  hath  ! 
All  the  bells  laugh  aloud  in  their  glee 

At  sweet  Ethel's  return  ; 

And  she  smiles  by  the  hearth  where  the  scarlet 
flowers  blossom  and  burn ! 


THE  EVENING  STAR. 

EAN  from  the  lattice,  lady  bright; 

Trifle  no  more  with  the  pensive  guitar  ; 
For  the  sun  in  an  ebbing  ocean  of  light 
Is  anchored,  to  wait  for  the   evening  star. 

And  yonder  the  pal  ace- windows  blaze : 

Such  radiant  gold  from  the  west  they  win, 

That  you  say,  in  a  sort  of  pretty  amaze, 
"  Surely,  there  must  be  a  sun  within  !  " 

Over  your  head  a  rose-vine  clings, 
Deftly  the  long  stems  climb  and  lace  ; 

And  a  full,  red  bud  in  the  west  wind  swings, 
Brushing  the  rose  of  your  beautiful  face. 

Lean  from  the  lattice,  lady  sweet ; 

The  wind  is  blowing  the  bud  apart ; 
And  one  is  coming  adown  the  street, 

To  open  to  you  his  princely  heart. 

But  your  lips  are  touched  by  a  scornful  smile  : 
"  What  is  he,  but  a  boy  ?  "  you  say ; 


THE  EVENING   STAR.  167 

"If  I  bent  to  him  for  a  little  while, 
It  was  only  the  whim  of  a  lady  gay." 

Trifle  again  with  the  vibrant  guitar : 

But  the  boy  you  scorn  has  reached  your  side, 

And,  looking  away  at  the  evening  star, 

You  drop  for  a  moment  your  sceptre  of  pride. 

The  star  is  leaning  out  of  the  skies, 

To  hearken  to  passionate  words  and  low : 

"I  love" — and  "I  love,"  your  heart  replies, 
Whether  your  lips  assent  or  no. 

What  if  you  turn  his  fear  to  joy  ? 

Yield  him  the  heart  he  dares  implore? 
Lean  on  the  swelling  breast  of  the  boy, 

And  love  him  and  love  him  for  evermore  ? 

Your  cheeks  are  hot,  O  lady  proud! 

They  prate  of  the  pained  heart's  rapid  throes ; 
But  over  the  star  there  sweeps  a  cloud, 

And  you  —  are  crushing  the  half-blown  rose. 

Fine  is  the  pride  of  the  steady  eye, 

Of  the  curving  lip,  and  the  stately  head; 

Measured  and  clear,  with  never  a  sigh, 
Are  the  words  of  the  cruel  falsehood  said. 


168  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

Now  close  the  shutters  and  light  the  lamp ; 

Recklessly  toy  with  the  merry  guitar: 
The  wind  of  the  west  is  cool  and  damp, 

And  —  what  care  you  for  the  evening  star? 

And  yet  —  and  yet,  O  lady  fair, 
If  yonder  palace  you  think  to  win, 

With  its  windows  blazing  with  gold,  beware 
How  you  fancy  there  is  a  sun  within ! 

Else,  pierced  by  a  life-long  pain,  I  ween, 
Robbed  of  all  love-light,  cheated  of  joy, 

Even  yoU)  lady,  will  pine  to  lean 

On  the  noble,  burning  heart  of  a  boy. 


MY   GLADE  IN  THE  WEST. 

DROP  the  drained  pen  ere  the  song  is 

complete, 

And  sighing  for  solitude,  silence,  and 
rest, 

I  mind  me,  with  sighs,  of  a  tranquil  retreat,  — 
A  glade   far   removed,   in   the  wilds   of  the 
West. 

Sleep,  world-weary  senses !  afflict  me  no  more ; 
Too  long  has  my  soul  by  your  fetters  been 

weighed ; 

Like  the  freed  dove,  unhooded,  I  flutter,  I  soar, 
My  wings  gather  strength  for  their  flight  to 
my  glade. 

On  I  speed  to  the  West :  O  ye  forests  of  mine, 
I  enter  your  soft  summer-twilight  of  rest ; 

Dumb  with  rapturous  freedom,  I  sink,  I  recline 
On  the  dew-nurtured  mosses,  your  lover  and 
guest. 


170  MY  GLADE  IN  THE    WEST. 

The  drooping  beech-branches  sweep  low  at  my 

feet; 
The    trefoil   spreads   o'er  me   her   tremulous 

screen ; 

The  tubes  of  the  partridge-vine  lowly  and  sweet, 
Are  rosily  flushing  their  tendrils  of  green. 

The  fair    uniflora,  in  infantile  white  ; 

Lies  crouched  'neath  the  royal-fern's  plumiest 

crest ; 

We  are  buried  in  greenery,  deep  o\it  of  sight,  — 
This  flower  and  my  soul,  —  in  the  wilds  of  the 
West. 

While  the  thrush  —  ah  the  thrush !  if  the  flow- 
er of  the  rose 
Spell-changed  into  music  from  vision  should 

fade, 

All  her  bountiful  being,  her  raptures,  her  woes, 
Would  pour  through  the  song  of  this  bird  of 
the  glade. 

Cease,  minstrel    of  love !    lift    thy    wings    and 

depart ; 

Let  the  low,  liquid  cadences  falter  and  close ; 
For  their  sadness  and   sweetness   are  brimming 

my  heart; 
I  am  filled  with  the  soul  of  the  flower  of  the 


MY  GLADE  IN  THE    WEST.  171 

It  is  I  who  arise  from  the  grave  of  the  mold,  — 
'Tis   I  whom   the  wind   and   the   rain   have 

made  strong ; 

'T  is  the  bud  of  my  heart  that  begins  to  unfold,  — 
'Tis   the   flower   of  my  being   resolved   into 
song. 

Fly  on,  changeling  throstle,  the  spell  is  complete : 
Faint  echoes,  like  fragrance,  float  far  in  the 

glade ; 

And  oh,  if  the  voice  of  my  soul  were  as  sweet, 
From  the  sun  and  the    dew  it  were   heaven 
to  fade  ! 

In  holy  content  to  lie  yielding  the  ghost, 
Mid  silence  and  solitude  shadowed  and  gray ; 

While  the  rose  of  existence,  in  melody  lost, 
Would,  fold  after  fold,  vanish  lightly  away ! 

Hark !  the  pines  are  alert !  from  the  South  they 

have  caught 

A  rustling,  a  surging,  a  soft  rolling  sound; 
Now  comes  the  wind !  tearing   the   meshes   of 

thought, 
And  waking  my  soul  from  its  quiet  profound. 

Approaching,  delaying,   on-rushing  with   speed, 
This  secret,  seraphic  repose  to  invade, 


172  MY  GLADE  IN  THE    WEST. 

With  music  of  organ,  harp,  timbrel,  and  reed, 
It  sweeps  through  the  grand  gothic  arch  of 
my  glade. 

The  wind  — oh  the  wind  !  far  above  me  it  rolls  ; 

The  trefoil  rocks  not,  leaning  over  my  breast ; 
It  breaks  on  the  pines,  like  the  sea  among  shoals, 

They  burst  into  song,  they  are  tortured  from 
rest. 

Haste,  wild  winds  of  Poesy,  hitherward  roll ! 
Let  me  die  not  this   soft-breathing   death  of 

repose ; 
Though  I  break  in  the  blast,  grant  me  music 

of  soul, 

V        For  the  torn   pine   grows   nearer   to  heaven 
than  the  rose. 

Wake,  world-weary  senses  ;  fair  visions,  depart ; 

Green  forest  nor  glade  to  the  minstrel  belong ; 
And  a  rapturous  anthem  is  brimming  my 
heart  — 

I  suffer,  I  strive,  I  am  vibrant  with  song! 


DEATH    IN  THE   FOREST. 

;DDIE  had  folded  his  dimpled  hands, 

(Never  so  quiet  heretofore  !  ) 
Shadows  were  dark  through  forest-lands, 
Birds  went  mourning  about  the  door: 
But  Eddie  was  still  —  ah  stillness  dread, 

Through   which   the    rustle   of   boughs   they 

heard ! 

"  He  was  done  with  life,"  so  the  neighbors  said, 
And  the  mother  answered  not  a  word. 

Eddie  had  closed  his  dying  eyes  — 

They  looked  when  the  last  faint  breath  should 

fail; 
But  the  eyelids  thrilled  with  a  sweet  surprise, 

And  a  flush  ran  over  his  forehead  pale. 
They  saw  the  glory  of  Heaven  flow 

Down  on  the  face  so  pure  and  meek ; 
And  oh,  the  smile  —  like  a  flower  on  snow  — 

That   sank   through   the  curves  of  his  pallid 
cheek ! 


174  DEATH  IN   THE  FOREST. 

"  Eddie  was  clone  with  life,"  they  said, 

So  they  robed  in  white  the  beautiful  clay ; 
They  veiled  their  eyes,  for  the  child  was  dead, 

And  sighing  and  sobbing,  went  their  way. 
But^say  it  had  chanced  they  wore  no  veils, 

Methinks  when  the  coffin  slid   below, 
They  had  seen  their  boy  through  the  forest-dales, 

With  just  that  smile  —  like  a  flower  on  snow  ! 


FLOATING  ON  THE   LAKE. 


IGHTLY  floating  on  the  lake 
All  the  merry,  merry  day ; 
How  the  swells  arise  and  break, 
Flash  and  toss  their  pearly  spray ! 

While  I  dream  —  float  and  dream 

As  the  billows  in  my  wake 
Roll  and  bubble,  glide  and  gleam, 
Creep  and  vanish  in  the  lake. 

n. 

Green  the  shore  and  fair  the  lake ; 

Here  the  bark  and  there  the  glade  ; 
Here  the  ripple,  there  the  brake ; 
Here  the  sun  and  there  the  shade. 

While  I  dream  —  float  and  dream, 

Would  my  heart  might  never  wake  ! 
Swell  and  bubble,  glide  and  gleam, 
Creep  and  sparkle,  laughing  lake. 


Sigh  and  murmur,  swelling  lake, 
I  Ve  a  lover  on  the  shore ; 


176  FLOATING   ON   THE  LAKE. 

There  he  waits  my  hand  to  take, 
When  my  wayward  mood  is  o'er. 

Still  I  dream  —  float  and  dream; 

Shall  I  never,  never  wake  ? 
Creep  and    bubble,  glide  and  gleam, 
Sink  and  swell,  O  tossing  lake ! 

IV. 

Hark  I  the  wind  is  on  the  lake  ; 

Shadows  drift  and  veil  the  skies ; 
Yonder  cloud  begins  to  break, 
Forth  the  baleful  lightning  flies. 

Still  I  dream  —  float  and  dream  ; 

O  my  foolish  heart,  awake  I 
See  the  billows  roll  and  gleam, 
Rise  and  dash  across  the  lake ! 


Shoreward  flying  o'er  the  lake  — 
Ah  my  friend,  too  long  alone, 
Faithful  still  though  all  forsake  ; 
Well  my  loving  shall  atone ! 

While  we  dream  —  sweetly  dream 
Suns    may   shine,    or    storms    may 

break  ; 

Roll  and  bubble,  glide  and  gleam  — 
Love  is  brighter,  swelling  lake ! 


LEONORA. 

i. 

IEONORA,  Leonora! 
The   chill   drifts   of  winter  thy  bosom 

encumber ; 
The  shrill  tempest  beats  at  the  door   of  thy 

tomb : 

Arise,  O  my  love,  from  the  silence  of  slumber, 
Smile  forth,  and  the  glad  world  in  roses  will 
bloom  ! 

Leonora,  Leonora ! 
White  soul  of  my  bride,  shall   I  lure   thee    in 

vain  ? 

Draw  near  in  the  light  of  thy  snowy  array  ; 
Sweet  singer,  breathe  softly  thine  olden  refrain : 
"  Let  the  seasons  roll  on,  let  the  moons  wax 

and  wane, 
But  Love  shall  not  perish,  nor  wither  away." 

ii. 

Leonora,   Leonora, 

The  rushing  winds  thrill  with  the  voice  of  my 
pleading : 

12 


178  LEONORA. 

I  die  with  my  sorrow  —  oh  hear  and  awake  ! 
See,  cast  at  thy   feet,   how   my   torn   heart   is 

bleeding ! 

Smile   forth,   and    tlije   morning   eternal   will 
break, 

Leonora,  Leonora ! 

White  soul  of  my  bride,  shall  I  lure  thee  in  vain  ? 
Draw  near,  and  the  midnight  will  burn  like 

the  day : 

Oh  breathe  again  softly  thine  olden  refrain  : 
"  Let  the  seasons  roll  on,   let   the   moons   wax 

and  wane, 
But  Love  shall  not  perish,  nor  wither  away." 

in. 

Leonora,  Leonora! 
In  their  sun-guided  ways  all  the  stars  look  and 

listen  — 
What  light  breaks  at  last  through   the   door 

of  thy  tomb  ? 
I   see    thy   white   robes   as   they  glimmer  and 

glisten, 
And  lo !  the  sweet  roses  have  burst  into  bloom  ! 

Leonora,  Leonora! 
White  soul  of  my  bride,  Death  shall  lure  thee 

in  vain, — 

His   snow-drifted   midnight   is   burning   with 
day : 


LEONORA.  179 

Thy  lips  murmur  softly  their  olden  refrain : 
"Let  the  seasons  roll  on,   let   the   moons   wax 

and  wane, 
But  Love  shall  not  perish,  nor  wither  away." 


WHITE  VIOLETS. 

Y  sweetest  friend  I  sought  to  please : 
I  led  her  down  a  cool  descent, 

Where   trailed   the   boughs  of  ancient 
trees, 

Most  quaintly  bent. 


A  glen  we  found  all  velvet-lined, 

Whence,  peering  fifty  fathoms  down, 
We  saw  the  flashing  rapids  wind 
Through  boulders  brown. 

A  light  cascade  flung  crystal  globes 

O'er  dense  green  moss  and  slender  sedge  ; 
Then  flitting  on,  in  gauzy  robes, 
Waltzed  o'er  the  ledge. 

Full  softly  shone,  through  leaves  half  furled 

And  filmy,  frail,  spray-silvered  nets, 
Those  loveliest  blossoms  in  the  world,  — 
White  violets. 

Oh  pure,  oh  fragrant  woodland  things ! 
My  friend  beheld  them  with  delight ; 


WHITE    VIOLETS.  181 

She  lightly  brushed  their  snow-flake  wings 
With  hand  as  white. 

"  Fair  flowers ;  and  is  it  sweet,"  she  said, 
"  To  dwell  in  such  a  glade  of  dews  ?  " 
Then  lower  drooped  her  faultless  head, 
And  seemed  to  muse. 

"But  human  hearts,"  she  murmured  then, 

"  With  cause  for  constant  sighs  are  weighed  ; 
Wherefore  we  yearn,  though  green  the  glen, 
For  deeper  shade. 

"  And,  watching  breezy  water-jets 

In  mossy  woods,  we  straightway  crave 
By  their  attendant  violets, 
A  quiet  grave." 

"  Kind  Claire,"  I  sighed,  "  the  thought  is  thine ; 

Still  should  I  pray  for  lengthened  life, 
If  but  that  restless  hand  were  mine  — 
Its  queen  —  my  wife  ! 

"  Yet  softer  sleep  could  never  be, 

When  this  my  pilgrimage  must  end, 
Than  under  flowers  beloved  of  thee, 
My  sweetest  friend." 


182  WHITE   VIOLETS. 

She  raised  a  rapt,  transfigured  face: 

"  Blest  with  thy  love,"  the  maiden  said, 
"  No  more  shall  Claire  crave  resting-place 
Among  the  dead !  " 

Soft  sang  the  wind  through  ancient  bowers! 

Light  swayed  the  gauzy  water-jets  ! 
Loving  and  loved !  —  Oh  rarest  flowers,  — 
White  violets! 


FALLEN  FRUIT. 


WILD  wind  of  the  sea, 

Blow  on  and  mock  my  soul ! 
For   the  red  fruit  falls  from  the   fading 

tree, 

And  the  last  wine  drips  from  the  crystal  bowl. 
I  sit  all  day  in  my  chamber  door ; 

Over  the  sea  the  wind  blows  cold ; 
I  miss  the  white  sail  by  the  shore, 
And  the  merrily  chanted  songs  of  old : 

But  the  waves  roll  ever  — 
Over  my  dead  are  the  proud  waves  rolled ! 


O  blue  waves  of  the  sea, 

Roll  on  and  mock  my  soul ! 
For  the  sail  was  rent  and  the  helm  set  free, 
And  the  sailor  hurled  to  his  dreamless  goal. 
I  sit  alone  in  my  chamber-door : 

Over  the  sea  the  wind  blows  cold ; 
Alas  for  the  white  sail  on  the  shore, 
And  the  merrily  chanted  songs  of  old  ! 


184  FALLEN  FRUIT. 

But  the  waves  roll  ever  — 
Over  my  dead  are  the  proud  waves  rolled. 

in. 
O  swift  and  angry  sea, 

Surge  on  and  whelm  my  soul ! 
For  the  last  bird  flies  from  the  barren  tree, 
And  I  yearn  for  the  sailor's  dreamless  goal. 
I  will  sit  no  more  in  my  chamber  door : 

O  billows  of  ocean  swift  and  cold, 
Ye   shall   drag   me   down  from   the  rocky 

shore, 

Where  my  love  lies  mute  as  the  songs  of 
old!  — 

So  the  waves  roll  ever : 
Over  the  dead  are  the  proud  waves  rolled  ! 


FLOWERS  OF  AUTUMN. 

these  are  the  last  of  rny  flowers  ! 
These  pansies  of  purple  and  white ; 
These     mourning-brides,      heavy      with 
showers, 

And  veiled  in  the  colors  of  night; 
Tin's  perfume-distilling  sweet-pea, 

Where  the  honey,  unrobbed,  lingers  yet ; 
Forget-me-nots,  blue  as  the  sea, 

And  sprays  of  the  sweet  mignonette. 

The  last  of  my  flowers  in  the  vase  ! 

'No  more  shall  I  steal  out  to  view 
Each  fresh-budded,  glad  little  face 

A-nodding  at  me  in  the  dew ; 
No  more  shall  I  kiss  them  apart 

In  childish  impatience  of  time ; 
While  the  currents  of  love  in  my  heart 

Swell  into  the  flower-buds  of  rhyme. 

Ah  me !  when  my  summer  shall  die, 

And  Grief  drops  for  me  her  sad  showers, 


186  FLOWERS  OF  AUTi'MX. 

O'er  my  poor  lays  some  loved  one  will  sigh, 
Saying,  "  These  are  the  last  of  her  flowers  !  " 

Yet,  softly  rehearsing  the  lines, 
Forbearing  to  cavil  or  sneer, 

Will  murmur,  '*  Her  spirit  repines 
No  more  at  the  fall  of  the  Year. 

"  She  has  passed  from  the  shade  of  the  tomb ; 

She  has  put  off  the  colors  of  night ; 
All  her  flower-buds  of  thought  are  in  bloom, 

And  heavy  with  dews  of  delight ! 
Dear  heart !  so  the  season  is  sweet, 

For  God's  love  enriches  her  hours ; 
No  more  will  she,  sighing,  repeat, 

'  Ah,  these  are  the  last  of  my  flowers ! '  " 


POEM. 

READ  AT    THE    ANNIVERSARY    FESTIVITIES  OF  THE    "NAMELESS 
CLUB,"    OCTOBEB  27,   1863. 

I. 

'OULD  mine  were   some   celestial  min- 
strel's art ! 
So  should  I  charm  with  dulcitudes  of 

rhyme 

The  Nameless  Empress  of  our  festal  time ; 

Who,  spirit-like,  draws  from  the  world  apart, 

But  lights  the  pupils  of  our  finer  sight, 

And  dwells  among  us,  palpable  and  bright, 

Like  Love  within  the  chambers  of  the  heart. 

ii. 

For  she  is  worthy  sweeter  song  than  mine 
Who  wins  the  fealty  of  souls  like  these  ; 
And,  deftly  touching  Friendship's  organ-keys, 

Draws  forth  the  prelude  meet  for  hymns  divine  ; 
With  loyal  souls,  for  her  we  gladly  pour 
Flower-scented  honey  from  our  summer  store, 

And  bid   our   choicest    palm-fruits   yield    their 
wine. 


188  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


Ye  who  remember  in  what  guise  she  came,  — 
In  darkness  draped,  a  shade  with  starry  eyes ; 
Till  grown  self-luminous,  like  boreal  skies, 

Ye  saw  her  form  of  beauty  limned  in  flame  ; 
Ye  know  how  then  ye  made,  in  sacred  rite, 
For  love  of  her  a  covenant  with  night, 

And  gave  yourselves  the  shadow  of  a  name. 


And  we,  of  late  adopted,  whom  she  drew 
By  the  strong  magnet  of  her  gracious  will,  — 
Who,  at  the  threshold  of  her  throne-room,  still 

Have  loitered,  —  touch,  to-night,  with  reverence 

due, 

Her  sceptre  :  lo !  like  Aaron's  rod  of  old, 
It  breaks  in  bud,  its  gradual  flowers  unfold, 

And  perfect  almonds  ripen  in  our  view ! 

v. 

For  where  is  festive  gathering  like  ours? 
Fair  Clio,  muse  of  history,  draws  near, 
And  with  new  wine  revives  the  dying  year ; 
Here  sings  Euterpe,  fresh  from    laurel-bowers ; 
Here  Calliope,  skilled  the  heart  to   reach, 
From    Thought's  deep   river  flings  the   foam 

of  speech ; 
And  oh  scorn  not  the  Poet's  scanty  flowers ! 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  189 


VI. 

No  festival  like  ours :  yet  while  we  meet, 
We  might  discern,  had  we  clairvoyant  powers, 
The  silent  ecstasies  of  mingling  flowers ; 

The  electric  currents  in  a  kindling  heat 

Of  mutual  joy  ;  the   sounding  rush  and  jar 
Of  reveling  tides  ;  mount  greeting  mount  afar, 

Through  roar  of  avalanches  white  and  fleet ; 

VII. 

The  soft  attraction  of  June  clouds,  that  shine, 
Yet  hide  the  sun  till  day  is  tinged  with  dark ; 
As  cherub-wings,  flung  radiant  o'er  the  ark, 

Shielded  from  mortal  eyes  its  light  divine  ; 
And  the  recurrent,  glad  concourse  above 
Of  burning  stars  that  still  approach  and  love, 

And  lean  from  their  curved  orbit's  golden  line. 

vm. 

But  we  have  nobler  union  :    being  made 

Sentient  of  God  and  Truth  and  our  own  souls; 
And  while  each  delicate  pulse  within  us  rolls 
Quickened  with  friendly  fervor,  we  are  weighed 
In  Heaven's  just  balance,  and  all  things  beside 
Found  less  than  we,  —  flower,  mount,  electric 

tide, 

Cloud,  star,   and  sun,  —  through    each   material 
grade. 


190  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


IX. 
Linked  sweetly,  life  with  life,  how  glad  should 

prove 

Our  annual  gathering !  since  one  dear  name 
We  bear ;  and  recognize  the  vital  claim 
Of  strong  resemblances,  that  strangely  move 
With  sense  of  adaptation  each  to  each ; 
Or  sharp  antagonisms,  like  wasps,  that  reach 
Into  the  heart,  to  get  the  sweets  of  love. 


For  transient  raptures  of  the  lesser  kinds 

Of  this,  exceeding  all,  are  but  rude  types; 

Or  far-off  echoes  of  these  music-pipes, 
Where  lurk  the  rhythmic  powers  of  poet-minds : 

Nature  has  myriad  revelers ;  but  we, 

Royally  human,  hold  our  jubilee 
As  princes  do,  whose  hall  no  peasant  finds. 

xi. 

Even  thus  the  winds,  that,  all  the  season  through, 
Ply  their  light  wings,  and  toss  the  feathery 

spray 
Among  the  roses,  or  arise  from  play 

To  bend  the  giant  larches,  cool  with  dew, 
Merry  and  wild  with  aery  willfulness, 
In  frequent,  tuneful  revelries  congress, 

And  all  their  birthnight  harmonies  renew. 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  191 


xn. 

For  once  in  central  caverns,  dark  and  dread, 
Dwelt   winged   ^Eolus,  when   the   earth  was 

new  ; 
There   all   his    sons    and    daughters   voiceful 

grew, 

And  shook  with  noise  the  mountains  overhead : 
Till  Saturn's  son  —  the  wave-controlling  god — 
Vexed  with  their  music,  smote  with  cleaving 

rod 
The  rock,  sea-shaken,  and  unleashed  they  fled. 

XIII. 

How  rushed   they  forth,  alert   and  strong   and 

free  ! 
With  dancing  feet   to   thrid  the  dark-arched 

woods ; 

To  plow  the  sands  on  desert  solitudes  ; 
O'er  drowsy  plains  to  chase  the  flitting  bee  ; 
Down    dripping    chasms    the    falling    leaf  to 

whirl ; 
Cloud   against   cloud    mid   leaping   flames  to 

hurl ; 
To  beat,  with  forceful  wings,  the  frothy  sea : 

XIV. 

But,  back  at  last,  in  sudden  joyfiil  raids, 
They  wheel  into  the  caverns  of  their  birth, 


192  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 

To  fill  with  laughter  all  the  vaults  of  earth,  — 
The  secret,  rayless,  dewy  haunt  of  shades ; 

To  smite  wild  harps  on  every  beetling  ledge ; 

To  pour  libations  unto  Pan,  and  pledge 
Eternal  love,  beside  the  sea-cascades. 


So  we,  the  Nameless,  being  loud  in  song, 
In  speech  persistent,  vexed  the  gods  to  smite 
Our  noisy  souls  from  secret  caves  of  night ; 

And  restless  as  the  winds,  the  sad  year  long 
We  beat  the  billows  of  opinion,  caught 
Mid  storm  and  cloud  the  lightning-flames  of 
thought, 

Or  teased  the  reed,  or  did  the  trumpet  wrong. 


Small   spheres  are  ours :    but  we,  at  least,  as- 
pire, 

And  by  our  diligence  in  labor,  prove 
Our  right  divine  to  life  and  hope  and  love  ; 
And  while  we  wield   the   sword  or  sweep  the 

lyre, 

And  sculpture  the  serene  designs  of  Fate, 
Sure  of  the  crown  are  we,  and  purple  state, 
In    those   high   courts  where  dwells    our   Lord 
and  Sire. 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  393 


XVII. 

And  now  all  burdens  from  the  heart  we  fling ; 

We  float  from  tempests,  we  are  glad  and  free ; 

We  pass  the  turbulent  whirlpools  of  the  sea 
Of  human  effort,  poising  every  wing 

For  flights  ecstatic,  while  we  toss   the  spray 

Of  gleeful  words,  and  pour  with  laughter  gay 
Libations  to  our  queen,  whose  praise  we  sing. 

XVIII. 

Were  seasons  bitter  in  the  bygone  year? 
We  feel  no  chill  to-night  from  any  cold : 
Crossed  we  the  desert  ?  back  the  sands  have 

rolled, 

And  the  Nile's  lapsing  symphonies  we  hear : 
Was    love    withheld?   still   we   had   love    to 

give: 
Are  loved  ones  dead?  our  dead  shall  surely 

live  : 
Has  earth  receded?  ah,  then  heaven  is  near! 

XIX. 

And  more  to  grace  our  natal  night,  behold 
A  miracle  !    beside  the  honeyed  hive 
Our  sweetest  flowers  (for  there  were  flowers) 
revive  ; 

The  autumn  breeze,  but  lately  waxing  bold, 


194  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 

Dies  in  the  fragrance  of  the  bursting  rose : 
The  Past  bids  all  its  emerald  gates  unclose  — 
Backward  we  glide  and  test  the  joys  of  old. 

xx. 

The  flash  of  mind  converging  toward  mind, 
Caught  and  refracted  in  Love's  crystal  lens, 
Lighting  those  vehement  fires  that  melt  and 

cleanse 
The  gold  of  character,  else  unrefined  ; 

Harmonious  wills  that  made  all  converse  sweet, 
Like   bugles   played   in    time   with    marching 

feet, 
Or  varying  voices,  tunefully  combined ; 

XXI. 

And  that  rare  confluence  of  soul  with  soul,  — 
As  meeting  rivers  that  through  valleys  pour, 
Will  fret  and  chafe  the  intervening  shore 

Until  it  breaks  and  as  one  wave  they  roll 
Through  noontide  splendor  and  through  mid- 
night shade, 
And  nevermore  are  wholly  two,  but  made 

Each  heir  of  both  and  partner  in  the  whole ; 


And  all  the  silent  sympathies  that  rose 
After  the  falling  of  some  frost  of  grief — 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  195 

Like  violets  that  push  the  growing  leaf 
Against  the  lingering  lines  of  April  snows : 

These  joys  were  of  the  Nameless  —  still  are 
ours, 

And  shall  be  till  we  lose  the  breath  of  flowers, 
And  find,  on  arctic  plains,  our  long  repose. 


While  we  the  Year's  chrysalides  unlace, 

And  all  their  silken  threads  around  us  creep, 
What   living  memories   start   from   shrouded 

sleep ! 

Upon  whose  broad,  gold-dusted  wings  we  trace 
The    penciled    curves    of    many  a    pictured 

scene,  — 

Sun-copied  hills,  the  river's  rippling  sheen, 
And  the  soft  hues  of  many  a  shadowy  place. 

XXIV. 

For  when  the  days  were  in  their  rosiest  bloom 
We  shook  away  the  dust  of  city  marts ; 
And  with  a  happy  sense  of  lightened  hearts, 

Let  fall  awhile  our  heavy  weights  of  gloom : 
Right  princely  was  our  welcome  to  the  wood, 
The   green-roofed   paths,  the  valley  and   the 
flood, 

And  to  the  generous  board  and  tasteful  room ! 


196  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


XXV. 

The   moon   came   up   that  eve,   full-orbed  and 

fair  — 

That  sovereign  Cleopatra,  —  ruling  Night, 
And  dropping  ever  in  his  loving  sight 
Her  threaded  pearls  adown  the  wine-like  air: 
Half  undissolved  they  sank  through  shadows 

gray, 

Embroidered   Mo-no-sha-sha's  robe  of  spray, 
And  caught  in  Deh-ga-ya-soh's  silver  snare. 

XXVI. 

All  night  we  heard  the  river-cataracts  pour: 
Their  ceaseless  timbrels  smote  the  ear  of  sleep; 
Till  all  our  dreams,  like  waves  that  landward 

sweep, 
Were  wild  and  voluble  with  naiad-lore: 

And  we  were  reft  of  rest,  and  seemed  to  be 
Kuhleborns   and    Undines,  dripping  -with  the 

sea, 
Or  knights  and  ladies  drenched  upon  the  shore. 


Surely  the  water-witches  tricked  us  well ! 
When  the  carved  cuckoo  made  the  morning 

hours 
Finish   their   rounds    with    song,    mid   falling 

show'ers, 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  197 

And  rain-weighed  rose-vines  ;  scarcely  might  we 

tell 

Whether  we  had  not  lost  our  souls  in  dreams 
Of   that   past    night,  and  were    but     sprites 

of  streams, 
Oreads  of  hills,  or  elfs  of  knoll  and  dell. 

XXVIII. 

Upon  the  grass-fringed  lakelet,  fountain-fed 
With  cooling  rills,  just  drained  from  hill-side 

wells, 

Where,  to  the  tinkle  of  sweet  water-bells, 
Aerial  jets  were  waltzing  overhead, 

By  sirens  lured,  how  daintily  we  rode ! 
Till,  drawn  too  near  their  crystalline  abode, 
What    showers    the     fickle    creatures    o'er    us 
shed? 

XXIX. 

We  trod  the  dim  cool  windings  of  the  trail 
That  through  the  forest  led  to  secret  nooks, 
Where    lightly    laughed     the     ever-raptured 

brooks, 

And  the  mitchella  repens  blossomed,  pale 
From  love  of  shade  and  rich  excess  of  dew ; 
Where  pulsed  the  bubbling  spring,  and  down- 
ward threw, 
From  tiny  heights,  its  moss-entangled  veil. 


198  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


XXX. 

We  sauntered  by  the  still,  sequestered  lake, 
O'er   which    the    trees   leaned  low   and   dis- 
allowed 

Reflection  of  blue  sky  or  tinted  cloud : 
Hushed  were  we  into  silence,  or  but  spake 
Half   to    recite,    half   chant    some     rhymed 

phrase : 
(Ah !    such   the  witchery  of  those  woodland 

ways, 
The  very  lovers  there  their  loves  forsake  /) 

XXXI. 

But  thou,  O  Genesee !  above  thy  tide 

On  grassy  lawn  we  loitered  in  the  shade, 
And   watched    thy   cascade-waves  their    net- 
work braid 

Of  sunny  coils,  the  notched,  rude  rocks  to  hide  ; 
And  heard  —  as  choir-sung  hymns,  past  archi- 
trave 
And     frescoed     arch,     and     pillar-narrowed 

nave  — 
Ever,  O  Genesee,  thy  songs  of  pride  I 

XXXII. 

Vaunting,  thou  child  of  clouds,  thy  lineage  high  ; 
Thine     ermine-bordered,     rustling,     gemmed 
attire ; 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  199 

Thy    rainbow-wrought    pavilion,    fringed    with 

fire 
Of  ardent  suns  when  reigns  the  proud  July; 

Thy  creeping,  leaping,  battling  waterfalls ; 

Thine  ancient,  steadfast,  most  imperial  halls, 
Whose  lofty  chambers  swell  thy  lightest  sigh. 

XXXIII. 

O  home  of  peace  !  O  cedar-bowered  land  — 
Glistening  Glen  Iris,  beautiful  as  heaven  ! 
O  cloven  hills,  by  flood  or  earthquake  riven  ! 
O  riotous  stream,  impetuous  and  grand ! 

There  while  we  dwelt,  gay  laugh  and  mimic 

feud 

Our  youth    revived,    our   childhood   half  re- 
newed, 
And  knit,  forever  one,  our  songful  band. 

XXXIV. 

But    shall    we  yield    our    souls   to   dreams    of 

rest? 

Floating  on  gossamer-memories,  away 
From  dissonant  life  and  all  the  sad  to-day,  — 
To  sink  into  the  poppy's  scarlet  breast, 

Crying    "  Here    linger !     there    is    need    of 

sleep ! " 

When  round  us  "  deep  is  calling  unto  deep," 
Nation  to  nation  in  the  East  and  West  ? 


200  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


XXXV. 

List  to  their  passionate  voices  :  "  Wake,  oli  wake ! 
Our    rulers   rule   not  well :    their  yokes    are 

hard; 

Their  palaces  the  very  day  retard 
With  lengthened    shadows,  when  the    mornings 

break  : 
Are  we  but  slaves  that  thus  we   crouch  the 

knee? 
Hearken  !  God  thunders  '  Ye  are  men  —  are 

free  ! ' 
And  dynasties  beneath  his  judgments  quake." 


How  long  shall  Poland  faint  and  Hungary  sleep  ? 
How  long  shall  sultan  smite  and  emperor  plot? 
How  long  shall  tears  of  blood  earth's  records 

blot? 

How  long  shall  Afric,  scourged,  submissive  creep 
And  drag  the  brutal  trader's  shameful  chains  ? 
How  long  shall  Northern  blood  wet  Southern 

plains  ? 
How  long  shall  heroes  sow, and  dastards  reap?' 

XXXVII. 

O  Power  Supreme,  thou  knowest  —  thou  alone  ! 
But  there  are  omens  in  the  air  and  sky, 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM,  201 

That  prove  the  very  gods  are  drawing  nigh  — 
Touched  to  the  heart  by  every  human  groan. 
Cloud-veiled,  they  ride  to    end    the    doubtful 

fray ; 

Around  their  feet  the  obedient  lightnings  play  ; 
Down  mount  and  vale  their  heaven-forged  bolts 
are  thrown. 

xxxvm. 

Wild  battle-blasts  have  withered  half  our  land, 
And    Freedom    pants    and    pales    in    hellish 

toils ; 

But  ah,  above  the  dragon's  stiffening  coils, 
The  car  of  Victory  rolls  from  strand  to  strand ! 
Its  wfnged  coursers  cleave  the  smoke  of  strife ; 
O'er  mortal  dust  blooms  deathless  spirit-life ; 
Dread  War  rides  on — but  rides  toward  issues 
grand. 

XXXIX. 

For  God  shall  speak  ;  and  clash  of  cleaving  sword, 
And  cherub-harps  and  archangelic  songs 
In  larger  sound  shall  merge    unheard,  while 
throngs 

Of  stars,  made  fair  by  his  Creative  Word, 
Shall  hark  to  the  ineffable  voiceful  breath  : 
"  Columbia,  rise  —  thou  conqueror  of  Death  ! 

Savior  of  nations,  counselor  and  lord  !  " 


202  ANNIVERSARY  POEM. 


XL. 

Comes  not  the  hour  ?  quake  not  the  rock-based 

hills? 

Falls  not  griefs  darkness  over  sea  and  plain  ? 

Are  not  the  veils  of  temples  rent  in  twain  ? 

Have  not  the  Dead  grown  quick  with  throes  and 

thrills 

Of  actual  life  ?  —  appearing,  saintly  pale, 
Through  faint  aureola  and  shimmering  veil, 
While  Sin  his  own  death-measure  over-fills  ? 

XLI. 

For  us,  who  now  all  mournful  thought  forbear, 
Weak,  "Nameless,"  we  are  children  "ne'erthe- 

less 

Of  Him,  who  ever  waits  in  heaven  to   bless 
With   kind  "  Well    clone ! "    our   sad   laborious 

care. 
There  shall  our  lives,  that  find  rough  channels 

here, 
Flow   smoothly  on,   nor   beat  the  shores  of 

Fear; 
And  all  their  hours  be  sweet  and  debonair. 

XLII. 

Thus  when  our  souls,  ascending,  seek  the  sun, 
Each  from  new  heights  of  social  joy  shall  turn, 


ANNIVERSARY  POEM.  203 

And,  looking  earthward,  find  the  broken  urn 
Of  his  past  life  with  myrtle  overrun  ; 

And  hear  some  loiterer  in  the  graveyard  say,^ 
"  This   soul  was  worthy  of  heaven's   perfect 

<%> 

Who  did  the  work    God  gave,  and    hindered 
none." 


THE    END 


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